


Dependency

by walkingivy



Series: Dependency [1]
Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Action/Adventure, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-20 02:29:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 33,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3633339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/walkingivy/pseuds/walkingivy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Spock and Bones are trapped in a no-win scenario on a slave planet, they become closer than anyone would have thought possible. Gen story with a slash sequel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

.o0o.

Part 1

.o0o.

 

"I didn't realize the Federation was in the habit of making deals with slave-traders." McCoy groused as he hurried along to Kirk's left, straightening his uniform as he went. He'd only gotten out of surgery ten minutes before and had to rush to get ready. Chapel had assured him that Ensign Wash'li was going to be perfectly safe in her capable hands as she handed him a folded uniform.

 

Kirk sighed. "They aren't. Unless dilithium crystals are on the table."

 

"Seems to me like we should pick a side and stick to it."

 

"Need I remind you, Doctor, that many cultures across Earth practiced slavery for thousands of years." Spock intoned from his position to Kirk's right as the trio walked quickly toward the transporter room.

 

McCoy bristled. "We abolished that practice hundreds of years ago." He bit out. "It is morally wrong, and we shouldn't be condoning the behavior by trading with the Boringdans."

 

"Bloringdians." Spock automatically corrected.

 

"Whatever." McCoy didn't sound like he cared. "My point is that our morals shouldn't be bought and sold. We should insist that they end their slave practices before we are willing to barter."

 

"Our prime directive dictates that we not interfere with the internal development of the Bloringdians. It is highly probably that as their culture and technology advances, they will no longer feel obligated to keep slaves. Is forcing our moral standards upon them not also morally wrong?"

 

"There are different levels of wrongness, Spock!"

 

 

"That's enough." Kirk interrupted as they entered the transporter room, used to his friends' constant bickering. In truth, he appreciated it because it gave him insight on two very different perspectives on any issue. His effectiveness as a captain was largely in thanks to Spock and McCoy arguing all that time. But he wasn't about to tell them that. It would go straight to their heads. "I know you're opposed to the way they run things down there, Bones, but I need you to keep quiet about it. Starfleet has made it abundantly clear that we are not to leave this planet without a signed treaty for those dilithium crystals. The Romulans and Klingons have been breathing down our necks and we can't build any more effective weaponry without those crystals."

 

"Well, that's all fine and dandy, Jim, but can't you do it without me?" McCoy was openly pouting as he stepped onto his transporter pad in front of the three security personnel, but no one would have dared to say that to his face. "I hate having my molecules scrambled. 'Specially not for these people."

 

"Bones, you know I'd let you out of this if I could, but the Bloringdians specifically asked for a doctor. It appears that their medical technology is abysmal, and it's the only thing they were willing to trade us for. You should be happy they're not asking for weapons."

 

McCoy snorted. "Or whips and chains."

 

"Energize." Kirk boomed, ignoring his CMO entirely.

 

.o0o.


	2. Chapter 2

.o0o.

Part 2  
.o0o.

 

The Bloringdians resembled humans closely with a few minor exceptions. Their fingers were about twice the length of a human, and their feet were roughly the same, both with significant webbing. This was likely an evolutionary advantage on a planet that was over ninety percent water. Their average build was slightly shorter and thinner than a human, but their complexion was almost identical. Finally, all of the Bloringdians were bald.

 

Despite assurances of complete cooperation and safety, Kirk brought along his phaser and three highly trained security officers, some of his best. Yet he relaxed marginally upon entering the palace building. His fears of a tyrannical rule by a heartless meglomaniac appeared to be unfounded. Slaves were marked by a strange set of intersecting circles along the inside of their left arms, as had been described within the first discussions with the Bloringdians. However, they appeared to be in good health, and astonishingly, happy. They were not bound, nor did they carry any scars from physical violence. They smiled openly at the newcomers and wandered about the palace. They almost seemed child-like in their innocence.

 

Kirk tossed a look at McCoy. They had known each other for so long and were such good friends that words were really unnecessary. Kirk was pointing out that it wasn't that bad. Bones scowled and silently reproached him for making a snap decision on just what they had seen so far. Slavery is still slavery, his eyes said. Kirk shrugged. It wasn't like he was praising their practices, just noting that this treaty might be less difficult to negotiate than they had originally feared.

 

"Captain! Captain!" Ninyal, Emperor of the Third Section (as he'd introduced himself earlier that morning on the Enterprise's viewscreen) came scurrying toward them. He touched two fingers to his forehead and did a curtsy, for lack of a better word. Kirk nodded back at him. "I am pleased at your arrival. We have much to discuss. Who are these people that you brought with you?"

 

"This is my First Officer Mr. Spock, my Chief Medical Officer Doctor McCoy, and my security officers Timothy Langdon, Erin Thistle, and Wingsong Doah." Kirk introduced them formally, pointing each one out in turn.

 

Ninyal's eyes stopped on McCoy, however, and didn't move. "Medical officer? Doctor? This is your Healer?" Ninyal questioned, clearly unwilling to believe his ears.

 

"Yes." McCoy responded simply.

 

Ninyal gestured one of the wandering slaves over with a careless ease and held out his hand. A dilithium crystal was placed into his open palm. He held it gracefully in two spread hands out towards McCoy. "A gift. For the Healer." He bowed his head and waited for McCoy to take it. McCoy glanced over at Kirk who nodded, before taking the crystal from the large hands. McCoy wasn't in the habit of carrying around dilithium crystals and its heft surprised him at first. Ninyal gave a lingering smile before turning back to the captain. "I have taken the liberty of collecting people with various types of illnesses into the medical wing of my palace to see what your Healer is able cure. Obviously, the more he is able to cure, the more crystals we'd be willing to exchange."

 

"You put them all in there together?" McCoy all but shouted, drawing attention from several meandering slaves. Kirk gave him a dirty look and McCoy forcibly squashed his outrage.

 

The emperor looked puzzled. "Why yes. I thought it would be more convenient and, since they are already sick, could do no harm."

 

McCoy paused before formulating his response. Kirk was already sending him warning glares. "I know you were well intentioned, but you may have done more harm than good. If the diseases spread between the patients, not only will it be more difficult to isolate and treat, but could kill the patients much more easily."

  
  


"My apologies. I had not realized." Ninyal stated in a way that made McCoy wonder if he was sorry at all. "If it is any help, I had the blood drawn as you requested before having them moved."

  
  


"That should make it easier to isolate." McCoy conceded.

  
  


Ninyal gestured another slave over. This one was carrying a large gray box. Carefully, Ninyal lifted it from the slave's arms and held it out for McCoy to pick up. He handed the crystal off to Spock before taking the large container carefully in both hands.

  
  


"I'll need to get these up to the ship, Jim." McCoy nodded at the box.

  
  


"You cannot examine them here?" Ninyal asked, seeming very concerned and stepping closer to McCoy. Officer Langdon moved closer as well, hand resting on his phaser. Sensing the threat, Ninyal backed away quickly.

  
  


"We have better supplies on board our ship." Kirk said. "But perhaps while he is looking at the blood, we could discuss what else you would like in exchange for more of these crystals."

  
  


Ninyal straightened. "As you can see, our people are happy here. We do not want for much. We would trade for medical supplies, technology and training, but above all else, we need cures to our current ailments. So until you can prove that your medicine is as worthy as you say, we cannot agree to any terms."

  
  


"Fair enough." Kirk acknowledged, more amiably than he was feeling. He flipped open his communicator. "Kirk to Enterprise."

  
  


Static greeted him.

  
  


"I apologize, captain. The palace interrupts communications and sensor readings. A safety precaution, you see. Yuual here will escort you back out so that you may contact your ship."

  
  


"Alright." Kirk said with ease, feeling a little nervous now that he realized he was separated from his ship. "We will contact you when we know more, then."

  
  


Ninyal gave another curtsy. "I look forward to it."

  
  


.o0o.


	3. Chapter 3

.o0o.  
Part 3  
.o0o.

McCoy stretched and yawned, surprised to see that it was well past midnight according to the ship's clocks. He looked over to Spock who was diligently looking into a microscope, his back as straight as ever. McCoy wondered how he was able to keep it straight like that after working three shifts without a break. McCoy's own back was killing him from all this work.

"We've been at this forever!" He moaned.

"Your statement is highly illogical, Doctor." Spock contradicted without even looking up from his work. "Seven weeks, four days, eleven hours, twenty-three minutes and thirty-seven seconds is not equivalent to forever."

"Add another two weeks of the work I put in before you got done lolly-gagging with Jim on the treaty, and I'm pretty sure that adds up to forever." Spock raised an eyebrow. McCoy wasn't sure if it was due to his use of the word "lolly-gagging", the insinuation that Spock had been slacking off or his atrocious math, but he didn't bother to bite back his grin. "I think I'm going to call it a night here. You should get some rest as well."

"That is not necessary, Doctor. As I have stated before, I do not require as much sleep as you."

"Spock, just do me a favor and go to bed. I'm sick of playing guess and check. I'm gonna ask Jim if we can go down there tomorrow and check out the patient in person."

"Very well." Spock acknowledged and put the supplies away. He was as efficient as ever and everything was in its place in a few short minutes. Spock breezed out of the room.

"Goodnight to you, too." McCoy grumbled after the door slid closed. As he made his way to his quarters and prepared for bed, he thought about the last few weeks. At first, everything was going splendidly. Many of the diseases were similar to ones they had encountered before and the DNA similarities between humans and Bloringdians made manufacturing cures a piece of cake. In less than two weeks, he had prepared nineteen cures, and sent them off to Ninyal. Ninyal was pleased with his progress. Each new cure was rewarded with a medium crate of dilithium crystals, on top of assurances of more to come in the treaty. Clearly, Ninyal did not know the value put on these crystals by the Federation or he would not have passed them out so easily. Or perhaps McCoy didn't know the true value of his cures...

It was two weeks before things took a turn for the worse. Kirk and Spock had worked out an agreement to trade medicine for immediate large quantities of crystals and consistent updates on technologies and supplies for a flow of crystals heading their way. It was a better deal than Kirk had dreamed of being able to make, and he knew that Starfleet would look highly upon this. At the start, Ninyal seemed happy to comply, but as the days went on, he appeared to be stalling and came up with excuse after excuse not to sign. The cures McCoy did produce no longer seemed to thrill him. Finally, he pulled McCoy aside, though he was watched carefully by both Kirk and Spock as he whispered into his ear.

"The truth is, Healer, that one of those diseases plagues my daughter. Each day I hope it is that cure that you bring me and each day I am disappointed. I dare not sign this treaty until I have that cure. Perhaps it is selfish of me, but can you make that your top priority?" Ninyal had pleaded. "It is the vial with the red top. I thought for sure you would examine it first."

McCoy had examined it first and was dismayed to find that he had no idea what the cause was, so he'd skipped on to other samples. After his conversation with Ninyal, Kirk had reassigned Spock to help him develop a cure for that particular disease, but to no avail. McCoy had gone through nearly every other vial in his box, accumulating thirty-eight cures and three unknowns before realizing that he would not be able to draw any parallels and would have to start from scratch with the blood sample from Ninyal's child.

Kirk was beginning to get restless. Well, to be fair, Kirk had started to get restless about four weeks ago, but there was little that could be done about it. McCoy had been back down to the surface a total of fourteen times between looking for possible causes and getting new samples, but Ninyal had refused to allow him to see this patient, which struck him as odd considering Ninyal's ease at allowing the doctor to visit the other patients. McCoy decided that he'd gotten as far as he could with what he had. He would convince Ninyal to allow him to examine his daughter and that was all there was to it.

Knowing that Kirk had assigned himself the night shift in order to shake things up a bit (or quite possibly to avoid Ninyal), McCoy didn't hesitate to comm him from his quarters. "McCoy to Bridge."

"Bones!" Kirk greeted him enthusiastically. It must be a boring night, then. "What can I do for you?"

"I'd like to take another crack at Ninyal."

"What makes you think he'll change his mind this time and not the dozen other times you've asked him to see his daughter?"

"Jim, this stupid guess-and-check process we've been carrying on could take years, assuming there is a way to cure it. Can't I just say that Starfleet is threatening to pull us out of the sector?"

Kirk chuckled. "You could say that, but I don't think they will believe you. They've been monitoring our transmissions, and I'm not prepared to fake one." McCoy grumbled something incoherently. "But you have my permission to take another stab at it. I want you to take Langdon and Doah with you, though."

"Is that really necessary? On the off chance he does let me in, I don't think he'd appreciate me bringing a whole army."

"I'm not letting you go down there by yourself." Kirk said.

"Then let me take Spock. Ninyal is pretty comfortable with him, and he'll be way more useful than security."

"Sure." Kirk compromised easily. "Get some rest, Bones. You leave tomorrow at 09:00." Kirk quickly shut off the comm before McCoy's obscenities could leak through and chuckled to himself. What was the fun in being a captain if you couldn't torture your crew once in a while?

.o0o.


	4. Chapter 4

.o0o.

Part 4

.o0o.

  
  


"As I have told you before, Healer, you cannot see my daughter. Surely the blood will be adequate enough? You have done so much with the other samples without seeing any of the patients."

  
  


Sensing McCoy's growing agitation, Spock cut in. "Examining the patient will allow the Doctor to have a better understanding of the possible causes of her illness. It will greatly reduce the spectrum of diseases that need to be tested and thus significantly decrease the time necessary to research a cure."

  
  


Ninyal shook his head. "I don't care how long it takes."

  
  


"It is highly probable that this disease could cause irreparable damage and even death if left untreated. The longer we take, the greater her risk." Spock responded calmly.

  
  


"I have had our healers examine her. They say that she is holding steady."

  
  


"Well, then your doctors are mistaken." McCoy stepped forward, his words earning a quirked eyebrow from Spock, who otherwise did nothing. "We compared the first sample you gave us to the most recent one and our results indicate that she is definitely becoming more sick. If you care for her, allow us to examine her ourselves."

  
  


  
  


Ninyal took a step back in surprise. He seemed to seriously contemplate for several long seconds before nodding to himself. "Follow me." He said, scurrying down the hallway at a fast pace. He led them down three flights of stairs and across to one of the farthest rooms. It was a wing neither Spock nor McCoy had been allowed to enter as of yet. "She is inside." He stated, holding the door open for the pair. He did not enter behind them, however, and instead closed the door after them, muttering some excuse about being needed elsewhere.

  
  


Inside was a mostly barren room, except for a large bed resting on an ornate wooden frame. A young girl was lying beneath the covers, fast asleep. "That's odd." McCoy announced, upon seeing a full head of hair. "I thought they couldn't grow hair on their heads."

  
  


"I have seen no other Bloringdian with such hair." Spock added. McCoy moved to the side of the sleeping girl and ran a scanner over her. Spock filled the silence. "I do not know why you told Emperor Ninyal that her disease was progressing. You have caused him to worry unnecessarily."

  
  


"I got us in here, didn't I?" McCoy furrowed a brow at the results and ran the scan a second time. "Will you look at that?" He whispered, shifting the scanner so Spock could see better from his new vantage point beside the doctor. "She's half human. Well, that would help explain why Ninyal was so insistent on keeping us out. I wonder how this could have happened?"

  
  


Spock straightened and said stiffly, "The original ship that made contact with the Bloringdians lost a member of their crew during their stay. Sarah Nicholson was reportedly killed in an accident while in this very palace."

  
  


McCoy turned wide eyes to Spock. "Are you telling me that they kidnapped a Starfleet officer and this is her child?"

  
  


"It is highly probable that this child belongs to Sarah Nicholson. Her ship was the only known contact between humans and the Bloringdians with the obvious exception of ourselves. However, you may be drawing an incorrect conclusion. We cannot be certain if this child was conceived non-consensually."

  
  


"You want me to believe that a member of Starfleet faked her own death to run off with an alien?" McCoy noted that the girl on the bed stirred and instantly lowered his voice. "That's ridiculous."

  
  


"But not impossible. I believe it would be prudent to report back to the captain on this immediately." Spock glided toward the door of the chamber.

  
  


"No argument there." McCoy agreed as Spock tried to open the door. It wouldn't budge. McCoy flipped open his communicator, only to be reminded with static that it would not work within the palace.

  
  


"It appears we are locked in." Spock stated.

  
  


"So, tell me, Spock. If this is all a big misunderstanding, why is he trying so hard to keep it a secret?" McCoy shook his head and went back to examining the girl.

  
  


"Doctor." Spock interrupted. "I do not believe it is wise for you to continue to assist the child."

  
  


"What?" McCoy barked. "I will not let a child die when there is something I can do to stop it."

  
  


"As Ninyal's healers have already stated, her health has been holding steady, and she is in no immediate danger."

  
  


"What's your point?"

  
  


"My point, Doctor, is that if you cure her, Ninyal will no longer have a reason to keep you alive."

  
  


.o0o.


	5. Chapter 5

.o0o.

Part 5  
.o0o.

"My point, Doctor, is that if you cure her, Ninyal will no longer have a reason to keep you alive." Spock withdrew his phaser and pointed it at the door. It clicked a few times, but would not fire. "It also appears that whatever the Bloringdians have been using to jam our communicators, also jams our phasers."

  


"Now you're the one who's jumping to conclusions." McCoy argued dismissively, continuing to take scans of the young girl in the bed. "That's just poppy-cock. I'm not thrilled with the slavery, of course, but we have no evidence to suggest that Ninyal, or any of the Bloringdians for that matter, are violent. His clear motivation this entire time has been to help his daughter. Why would he kill us?"

  


Spock, finally giving up on the door, which appeared to be beyond even his Vulcan strength to break and held no obvious weaknesses, began to scout the room more thoroughly. "As usual, Doctor, your eagerness to believe the best in people has blinded you to certain facts. There are repercussions to kidnapping and holding Starfleet officers against their will, which he has now done on two occasions. Self-preservation would demand that he find some way of removing us from the equation." McCoy deflated slightly, lowering the scanner. "And if we are to assume that Ninyal truly has no ulterior motive than to care for his daughter, as you suggest, you must also realize that by releasing us, Starfleet will come after the child. Therefore, he cannot allow either of us to report back."

  


"All right." McCoy stood and put away his equipment, willing to take defeat in this matter. If Spock was right, he had to protect both of them, and if Spock was wrong, the girl was holding steady enough at the time, and he doubted the delay would do her much harm. "What do you propose we do, then?"

  


"We are scheduled for a check-in in four hours. At which point, the captain will undoubtedly recognize that there is a problem and send a rescue team. I suggest that we stall until then."

  


Spock relished the silence for the whole two minutes it lasted as McCoy sat with a contemplative look on his face. During that time, he'd covered one wall and moved on to another, carefully inspecting for weaknesses or anything out of the ordinary. He found a security camera and ripped it out, examining the circuits to see if there was anything of use. "I don't know, Spock. Ninyal must know that we'll have to report back in four hours and that there's no way we could have a cure in that time. He must have some sort of plan for keeping us here."

  


"How very clever of you, Healer." Ninyal stated from his position in the now open doorway. Behind him were four slaves, each holding something similar to a gun in their hands. "My original hope was that you would not detect the human half in my daughter due to the genetic similarities, and my secondary hope was that you would feel morally obligated to help her anyway, but apparently that is not to be. Fortunately, I do have a back-up plan." Ninyal turned on one heel and shouted over his shoulder, "Bring them."

  


Spock and McCoy were led down several flights of stairs and through winding hallways until they came to what had no better name than a dungeon. Ninyal signaled a guard to open the door and the two were unceremoniously pushed in. Spock examined the dimly lit cage they now inhabited with a quick, clinical eye. No windows, one door, three rock walls and one barred gate, one bed. Spock then turned his attention to Ninyal, who either through luck or some knowledge of Vulcan abilities, was standing perfectly out of arms' reach.

  


"Leave us." Ninyal ordered once the door was secure and all the slaves vanished. "I assure you both that it is not my wish to hurt either of you. The Bloringdians are not violent by nature. However, we are fiercely protective of what is ours. I cannot allow you to report back to your captain, or he will surely attempt to take my daughter from me. And the one you knew as Sarah Nicholson resides here happily as my fifth wife. To remove them could lead to war and much unpleasantness."

  


"You capture one of our own officers, and you have the gall to call her  _yours_? Then threaten us with war?"

  


While McCoy fumed loudly, Spock asked a more pressing question. "Is it your intention to kill us, then?"

  


"Good heavens, no!" Ninyal refuted, actually sounding surprised. "That is positively barbaric. If all goes according to plan, you, Mr. Spock, will be allowed to return to your ship and inform your captain that your Healer was sadly killed, while the Doctor will be kept here with us to help medically."

  


Spock raised an eyebrow. "I am not inclined to tell my captain such."

  


"And I have no intention of staying here with you." McCoy added disdainfully.

  


"Have you not wondered how we keep our slaves here so peaceful and happy?" Ninyal asked in an apparently non-sequitur fashion. "We simply erase their memories. With no memories of their past or of having freedom, they believe that this is the life they are meant to lead. And why shouldn't they? They truly are content with us. Should one transgress, we simply erase the thought of doing it. You see, Healer, it solves the problem at its root instead of treating the symptoms. And as there is no possibility of the memory ever resurfacing, we also create an immunity to future problems of the sort."

  


"So that's how you got Nicholson to stay here. You erased her past!" McCoy growled out angrily. How did Ninyal believe this was less barbaric than death? By blotting out everything that made her unique, the whole of her past life, he'd killed the woman just as surely as if he'd put that gun in his hand to her head and pulled the trigger.

  


"Indeed. It is very effective and absolutely permanent. I need never fear an uprising among my slaves because I have made them happy. And I need not punish them for their wrong doings, simply remove the idea from their minds. It's a perfect system."

  


McCoy was incensed. "It's a fate worse than death. To be forever manipulated, forced to do another's bidding. Why, they are nothing more than a hollow shell of the person they once were. You've killed everything that made them a person."

  


"I've made them better." Ninyal argued, clearly unwilling to see his own wrong doings. "I've made them eternally happy. They never have to worry about the workings of the world. It's a life of being provided for with no cares."

  


"It's no life. You've stripped them of everything. I'd rather die than go through that."

  


"Fortunately, Healer, you won't feel that way in a few short hours. You will be through the procedure before your captain even realizes that you're missing." Ninyal said harshly before leaving with a flourish.

  


McCoy stumbled back and sat down hard on the bed. "What are we going to do, Spock?"

  


.o0o.


	6. Chapter 6

.o0o.

Part 6

.o0o.

  
  


McCoy had covered the whole room from top to bottom but couldn't see any way to get out of the cell, so he was pacing. He paced the length of the cell again, exactly five short strides before he had to turn back around. He'd been up and down the cell at least six hundred times since they'd taken Spock. His emotions were all over the board, but one kept coming back up: guilt. He felt guilty because he was the one that demanded to see Ninyal, and he was the one that made up that stupid lie to get in to see the daughter. On the other hand, if they hadn't, they would have wasted their time indefinitely while a Starfleet officer was unwittingly held captive. And then he'd feel guilty again because he was the one that asked Spock to come along and so it was his fault that Spock was in the other room having his personality swiped. On the other hand, if it was possible to resist that thing, Spock would find a way and then he would tell McCoy, so he would stand a better chance. And then he'd felt guilty because he was glad it was Spock in there and not him. He knew he was a terrible friend for thinking those thoughts, but he just couldn't help it. That 'procedure' had him quaking in his boots.

  
  


Finally, after what McCoy was sure had to have been at least eighteen hours, but was more likely less than an hour, Spock returned. McCoy wanted to pounce on him immediately and ask a thousand questions, but clamped his jaw shut until the guard was in the distance. Spock wasn't looking at him in confusion, so he must not have been convinced of McCoy's death as Ninyal had promised. Or, he was just being as impassive as ever. McCoy couldn't be sure which.

  
  


Unable to wait any longer, McCoy breathed, "Are you still... you?"

  
  


"Doctor, that is an odd question to be asking considering Ninyal did not want to erase all of my own memories, just those of our capture."

  
  


"Well, was he successful?" McCoy asked, gruffly. Spock raised one eyebrow, then another. He waited until it clicked for McCoy. One could always tell when McCoy caught his own mistake because he would lower his eyes, tighten his jaw, and a rosy color would attach itself to his cheeks. "What I mean, is..." he blundered on, "were you able to stop the process or did he not go through with it?"

  
  


"I was able to overcome the procedure using my advanced mental training." Spock somehow managed to say this statement that would have come out as incredibly prideful on anyone else with a straight face. "However, I was unable to pass the confirmation test and thus Ninyal is aware that my memory is still intact. I was attempting to be moved directly to the ship in order to apprise the captain of our situation before you were taken. I was not successful."

  
  


"Can you give me some good news?" McCoy grumbled.

  
  


Spock's eyebrow flew up again. "I was able to retain my memories."

  
  


"And I'm happy for you. But that doesn't help me much."

  
  


Spock folded his hands behind his back. "I was able to disrupt the machine to a certain extent. From the extent of the damage, I would estimate the repairs would take a few hours."

  
  


"So, enough time to stew upon my impending doom, but still not enough time for Jim to even notice that there's a problem." McCoy surmised pessimistically. There was silence as Spock circled the room to systematically test for weaknesses. McCoy didn't bother to tell him he had already done that. Knowing Spock, he would insist that the doctor had missed something. McCoy sighed. "I don't suppose that would be enough time for you to teach me some of those Vulcan mind tricks so I can keep my memories as well?"

  
  


Spock studiously ignored McCoy's terminology and continued to work his way around the room. "While it would be adequate time to cover several techniques which could be useful in this situation, your extremely limited telepathic abilities would reduce the chance of you successfully implementing them to point zero-"

  
  


"I don't want to hear it." McCoy cut him off instantly. "Wait... did you say extremely limited? As in... present?"

  
  


"Doctor, as you are well aware, humans do have varying degrees of psychic aptitude. Most, however, have too little to complete even the most basic of telepathic exercises. I would estimate that your level, if trained thoroughly, would allow you to become aware of psychic presences and possibly develop minimal barriers against telepathic invasion."

  
  


There was an edge of desperation in McCoy's voice, but there was also the tiniest glimmer of hope. "So, could you teach me to create some barriers?"

  
  


McCoy's heart sank as Spock sat next to him. If Spock was trying to let him down easy, he knew he was done for. "I apologize, Doctor, but I believe that would be entirely fruitless. The procedure is quite different than anything I've encountered before. Only a highly trained, experienced and powerful telepath could hope to overcome it."

  
  


"Can't you do it for me, then?" McCoy asked, not ashamed to be begging in a situation like this.

  
  


"I am a touch telepath, Doctor. Doing such a thing would require a full mind-meld, and I am certain that they will not allow me to stay there with you." Spock corrected, moving back to the last wall to be investigated.

  
  


McCoy wasn't about to give up, though. "You don't have to touch people, though. I've seen you do it."

  
  


"It is possible to leave impressions in a person's mind over a short distance, but it would be entirely inadequate for this procedure." Spock protested.

  
  


"Spock, you have to do something!" McCoy gave one final, passionate plea. "Kill me, if you have to, but don't make me live life like that. Please!"

  
  


Spock paused and turned around slowly. He folded his hands behind his back again and straightened. "There is one possibility."

  
  


McCoy took in his somber expression. "But I'm not going to like it, am I?"

  
  


.o0o.


	7. Chapter 7

.o0o.

  
  


His hands were surprisingly soft and warm as he planted his fingers, splaying them across McCoy's face. His hands were long and slender, pianist's hands, though McCoy knew for a fact that he didn't play. He could have, though. He could have excelled at it, too, with the quiet determination he applied to all of his tasks. McCoy had watched those hands from afar for a long time now, marveling at their hidden strength. Strength that only appeared at times of desperation. Like that one time when they closed into a fist that quickly found McCoy's jaw. Or the time when they'd circled his neck hard enough to leave bruises. Although it'd hurt at the time, those hands had not scared him. It was the wild, drugged glaze in his eyes that had frightened McCoy then. But it was the gentle pressure of his hands against his face that terrified McCoy now.

  
  


"Calm yourself." Spock stated, his tone its normal impassive, and a strange flood of calm permeated his senses. It was a foreign feeling, not his own, and McCoy instantly fought the forced calm. He refused to be controlled. This whole process was wrong on every level. It simply went against everything McCoy knew, everything that made him who he was, to sit back and allow this invasion. The strange calmness disappeared with Spock's long, slender fingers. He peered at McCoy as he leaned away with knowing eyes. He knew of his terror at exposing himself like this, worsened by the fact that McCoy had to do it for him, a callous, almost cold individual. And as if that wasn't bad enough, he seemed to truly understand. McCoy averted his eyes.

  
  


"This... this isn't going to work." McCoy stammered as the quiet began to prick at his skin. But Spock knew, and he understood, so his words were meaningless. He wouldn't tell McCoy that his fear was irrational and wouldn't tell McCoy the necessity of this process as he wished he would. He'd seen his mind already and would not waste their limited time on something McCoy already knew.

  
  


Spock quirked his eyebrow at his statement, but otherwise disregarded it entirely. "You must calm yourself. Clear your mind. Concentrate on the silence." His words were slow and strong. He wasn't impatient, nor was he nervous. McCoy could hardly stop thinking of the oppressive passage of time. It was dripping, drizzling away without restraint. Outside their cage, where death waited. McCoy forced his mind to relax, attempting to concentrate on the silence as Spock had demanded. But the silence had never been his friend in the same way that Spock could coax it out and swaddle himself beneath its empty gaze. Try as McCoy might, his mind longed to rush and flee this cage that his body could not leave. No, the silence would not do. McCoy wished for his tricorder and tried to concentrate on the buzzing noise it made from memory. Finally, his mind settled on Spock's sturdy, steady breath. In. Out. In. Out. No one breath lasted longer than another. Calm finally came out of hiding and sprawled along his mind.

  
  


Seeming to sense that McCoy had reached an adequate state, Spock's hand gently reached for his face again. McCoy felt the warmth from his fingertips rather than saw his hand from behind his closed eyelids. He nearly lost his sense of calm when he heard Spock's voice inside his own head. McCoy clung to the steady breathing as his mind adjusted to the new presence and the sounds that bypassed his ears. 'Visualize yourself in your mind's eye.'

  
  


He'd never tried such a task before. Who pranced around their own consciousness in a facsimile of their own body? Still, McCoy did as he asked. The body that appeared was nothing more than a caricature of myself. What he felt were his flaws were accentuated: his forearms were even more hairy and dark, his legs were shrunken, and his feet were overly large. Spock stood before him, a perfect duplicate of the physical form sitting patiently on the other side of his eyelids. McCoy could sense that this Spock was a projection from his own mind rather than his own rendition, probably a result of vigorous training in the mental arts. McCoy was certain it was more accurate than anything McCoy could come up with and cursed his own form, embarrassed by his ineptitude. Spock kindly did not comment.

  
  


'What's next?' McCoy questioned nervously, unsure if he could even hear his thoughts.

  
  


'Now you must open your mind to me.' Spock stated, entirely too relaxed with this process for McCoy's comfort.

  
  


'How do I do that?' McCoy asked pathetically.

  
  


Spock calmly directed his attention behind him. Seemingly out of nowhere appeared a massive, fortified castle. 'You must open it for me. I could damage your mind if I force my way in.' Suddenly, McCoy began to understand his own mind as something other than the chaotic mass he normally saw it as. Spock must have drawn images from human history books to present his mind, and his necessities in an understandable manner. McCoy wondered how he saw his mind before he'd organized it. His thoughts were always scrambled pictures and words. How had he managed to make any sense of it at all?

  
  


'Practice.' Spock responded simply to the question McCoy hadn't realized he'd been projecting.

  
  


Suddenly remembering his time restraints, McCoy hurried over to the castle gate. 'How do I open it?'

  
  


'Just think about it being open.'

  
  


It was easier than McCoy thought it would be, and the drawbridge dropped down and the massive wooden doors swung open on their own accord. McCoy could sense Spock's pleasure. It was weird.

  
  


.o0o.


	8. Chapter 8

.o0o.

Part 8

.o0o.

  
  


Spock and McCoy walked inside to an empty forum, dimly lit with numerous torches. McCoy glanced about himself, trying unsuccessfully to convince himself that he knew this place. Unwelcoming gray walls and narrow corridors stared McCoy down as if he were not wanted there. 'We will need to make a hole in the wall in order to place the link.' Spock stated, interrupting his examination.

  
  


McCoy didn't like the sound of that and, unintentionally, he brought the doors outside to a sudden, audible close. 'Won't that make me open to any old passing telepath?' McCoy whined, spitting the word telepath like it was a curse.

  
  


Spock nodded, unaware of his harsh tone or, more likely, choosing to ignore it. 'It will create a weakness in your... surprisingly well-built defenses. However, it will be very small and difficult to find. Chances of even an experienced telepath successfully utilizing such an opening are acceptably small. Furthermore, I will be aware of any invading force.'

  
  


'Acceptably small?' McCoy parroted, not feeling comforted by the vagueness of Spock's normally precise language. Who knew what a telepath considered an acceptable risk to take mentally? His training would allow him to locate and fight off an invading force much more easily than McCoy could.

  
  


'Less than one percent. Bear in mind that this process is not uncommon among my people. Any person seeking to be linked to another in this manner must create an opening in which the minds can connect. If it is of any comfort, I have already created a perforation in my own defenses.'

  
  


McCoy was touched. In essence, Spock had exposed himself in order to assist McCoy. It occurred to McCoy in that moment that this was a big deal for Spock, too. Vulcans prided themselves on their privacy and mental security, and he would be lowering his own shields to assist. Indeed, his mind would be open for McCoy's perusal once the link was firmly in place. 'Where should I make it?'

  
  


'Here shall be satisfactory.' Spock stated, gesturing to a nearby wall.

  
  


'Won't that be a little obvious?' Creating a weakness not two feet away from the bloody door didn't seem like a genius move.

  
  


'It only appears like it is two feet away from the door to us. Your mind will not look like this to an intruder. Nor would there even be an entrance like this.' Spock's slight mimicry of his phrasing warned McCoy that he was probably hearing the thoughts McCoy wasn't even trying to project. If that was the case, how come McCoy wasn't hearing anything from his end? 'Practice,' he stated, reminding the doctor that this wasn't the first time this had happened. Had he been aware of every thought since then? Had he thought anything that should be kept private?

  
  


Another wave of panic began to strangle McCoy as he realize that he could keep nothing completely secret. But his work required some secrecy. Would McCoy not be able to return to it after all this was over? And even if they didn't disclose that fact that they had been linked, could McCoy betray his patients' trust in him by continuing to claim that he could keep confidentiality? His beloved career would be ruined. 'Leonard.' Spock's voice and his abnormal use of his first name immediately caught his attention. 'I understand your concerns. However, my access to your thoughts is a direct result of my presence within your mind. I will not instantly acquire all of your knowledge, and I will actively remain aloof of your mental processes. I assure you that I do not wish to be exposed to the utter illogic of your mind more than necessary.' Although the insult was clear, McCoy was nothing but appreciative of his attitude and the terror abated. Spock continued, 'I will also instruct you on how to keep your thoughts private at a more convenient interval. Now please concentrate on the task at hand.'

  
  


McCoy picked a spot on the wall and demanded that there be a hole there, perhaps simply a brick missing from the plain, gray pattern. The wall was well constructed, like one of those older designs where the stones are cut so perfectly that they seal together without a crack and without mortar to hold them fast. The wall was indeed so well made that his demands for a hole were wholly ignored. McCoy looked over to Spock, but he said nothing. McCoy supposed it was probably more trying than opening a door had been because this clearly was not something that his mind was meant to be doing. McCoy concentrated harder, using the distant sound of Spock's breathing to center himself and relax. Still nothing. He walked over to the brick he had been attempting to glare a hole in and pressed his hand against its cool, rough surface. It was strange to feel something so solid and know for sure that nothing was actually there. Nevertheless, McCoy pushed against it and redoubled his mental efforts. The brick gave and with one more push, slid out from the wall. Now his castle had a six inch wide hole at his shoulder height. McCoy looked through, but only blackness greeted him.

  
  


Spock stepped over and examined the opening. He nodded to himself in a satisfied manner and, in an instant, a metal chain came hurtling through the opening. It stopped between them and McCoy had the oddest feeling of being connected in a way he hadn't even imagined before. Spock was with him on an entirely different level now. He could sense him beyond what his experience told McCoy was possible. Instinctively, he reached out to touch the chain between them and was immediately struck with a memory, but it wasn't his.

  
  


He was being instructed upon the formation of links between two people. McCoy wondered if Spock had chosen this memory in order to teach McCoy or if it was simply at the forefront of his mind. McCoy was suddenly sitting in a large lecture hall filled with hundreds of children who looked to be roughly eight. Yet, unlike any eight-year-olds McCoy had ever met, each child had his or her full attention on the speaker in the center of the room who was standing on a stage-like platform. He was the most somber of the group. "There are several types of links that can be formed between telepaths. Friendship links are not uncommon and rank as the lowest strength and intensity. Then there are links of partnerships and marriage links. Marriage links vary in intensity and are the only links that, when perfected, cannot be severed by anything short of death. This is why it is so important that your marriage partner be selected carefully."

  
  


McCoy was pulled out of the memory rather forcefully by Spock. 'Although I believe it is important that you acquire a firm understanding of the linking process, we have little time remaining.'

  
  


.o0o.


	9. Chapter 9

.o0o.

Part 9

.o0o.

  
  


McCoy was pulled out of the memory rather forcefully by Spock. 'Although I believe it is important that you acquire a firm understanding of the linking process, we have little time remaining.'

  
  


'We're not done?'

  
  


'On the contrary. We have only just begun. While I have secured my end of the link, without such security on your end, a trifling thing such as distance could severe the link. As we do not have much time, I suggest we begin by securing an end into your emotions. In the event that we are not able to finish, an emotional tether will result in the greatest strength of a partial link.'

  
  


Was Spock, known for remaining distant and making choices based solely on logic, admitting to the strength of emotions? McCoy looked over at him. His expression dared McCoy to make some comment about his last statement. Considering that he was in the process of saving his life, McCoy decided against harassing him. 'Okay. So what do I have to do?' McCoy felt completely lost in this world of telepaths.

  
  


'Follow your emotions back to their source.' Spock supplied as he split the chain hovering just inside the castle walls into four endings. 'Where are your feelings originating from?' Spock looked at McCoy expectantly, but McCoy still wasn't sure what he meant. 'Produce an emotion and trace it back.'

  
  


Still uncertain of the exact task at hand, but unwilling to admit that to Spock (despite the fact that he had access to his thoughts and, in all likelihood, already knew), McCoy turned toward the center of the building. Then it clicked. The pride that had inspired McCoy to stay silent was positively glowing. He stoked the flames of his pride with thoughts of his accomplishments, ignoring the ill concealed humor wafting off of Spock. He'd done some pretty awesome things in his life and that deserved some kind of credit! McCoy headed down one of the main halls in the direction where the emotion felt strongest. It was too narrow for them to walk side by side, so McCoy led the way. The hallways were a maze of turns, and while he was increasingly sure he was going in the right direction, McCoy wasn't at all sure if he'd be able to get back after. Finally, McCoy stopped in front of a small, square door. They both had to stoop to enter.

  
  


'Wow' was all McCoy could think to say upon the sight that greeted him. Inside the massive, brightly lit room were twenty or so copies of himself, all looking more accurate than the image McCoy had conjured up earlier. Each one was behaving in a continuous specific emotional fashion. Happy McCoy was wandering the room with a bright smile, attempting to encourage everyone else to smile. Friendly McCoy was approaching McCoy and Spock with an outstretched hand. Angry McCoy was currently involved in a fistfight with Annoyed McCoy as Jealous McCoy looked on in envy. In the center of the room, Prideful McCoy was standing on a milky white circular platform with a puffed chest. Guilty McCoy was waiting in the wings to step on the platform.

  
  


'A most disturbing phenomenon,' Spock commented from behind him. Angry McCoy stopped fighting and made a run for the platform. Spock studiously ignored the commotion and walked over to the stage, an end of the chain in tow. As he fastened the end to the edge with what appeared to be no more than a force of will, McCoy noticed Frightened McCoy cowering behind Prideful McCoy. McCoy hoped Spock wouldn't notice, but knowing him, he probably already had.

  
  


Stepping back, Spock stumbled, placing a hand to his head and fading slightly from view. Concerned McCoy jumped onto the stage, kicking Angry McCoy and Prideful McCoy away. Spock's knees buckled, and he was planted on the floor before McCoy could get to his side. McCoy wondered if it was the prolonged stay in his mind or the sudden connection to his admittedly powerful emotions. McCoy immediately attempted to suppress his emotions, and he saw each version of himself lie on the ground one by one. Concerned McCoy was the last to do so, but with extra effort, that version was resting on the ground, too. Spock gazed up at McCoy with a tiny amount of appreciation slipping through his mask and got to his feet. He was strong, no longer fading in and out from his vision. And it was his control that had saved him. Spock seemed very aware of this fact as well.

  
  


'I apologize. I have never tapped in so directly to another person's emotions before. I was not prepared.'

  
  


'We should get out of here.' McCoy suggested, more for his benefit than for Spock's. He was unsure of how long he could control his emotions.

  
  


'That is an excellent suggestion.' Spock left the room as quickly as could still be deemed dignified.

  
  


.o0o.


	10. Chapter 10

.o0o.

Part 10

.o0o.

  
  


McCoy closed the door behind them, practicing the technique he'd learned earlier on the outside wall to create a hole for the link to go through. Spock looked on and McCoy could feel his vague sense of being impressed. Was he impressed by how quickly he'd caught on to the process or by his control over his emotions? Knowing Spock, it was probably the emotions thing. To be fair though, McCoy had impressed himself by his control. 'What's next?'

  
  


'I believe your memories would be the next place to secure.' He reported as they followed the chain back to the main forum. It reminded McCoy of the myth about the minotaur in the maze, and the man who'd used string to avoid getting lost. Only, this maze wasn't really there. Hopefully there wasn't a minotaur waiting around some corner, either.

  
  


'So, I should be able to find it the same way that I found the other room?'

  
  


'Precisely. Do select a strong memory.' Spock instructed. Without hesitation, McCoy was immediately drawn back to his daughter's birth all those years ago, before his divorce, and how happy he was when the baby was lowered into his arms. The strength of this memory flared instantly, and the passages that had confused McCoy as he felt along blindly for his pride were very clear to him now. McCoy found himself jogging there unthinkingly. This door was tall, slender and opened up to his touch.

  
  


This room had to be at least three times the size of the enormous room that had housed his emotions, so large that McCoy could not even see the ends. Scattered in a random pattern around the room were small, round mirrors, hovering in mid-air. One of them was glowing and McCoy thought that was likely the memory that had brought him there. McCoy blindly stepped forward, only to be grabbed from behind by Spock. 'Be careful,' he whispered into his ear before releasing him. Spock pointed downwards, and McCoy saw the deep pit he'd almost fallen into.

  
  


Glancing around the room, McCoy realized that there were pits everywhere. This one seemed to whisper a single wretched word up to him, 'divorce.' It seemed as if the pits were filled with unhappy memories while the happy ones were floating in the air. McCoy side-stepped the pit and plucked the glowing mirror from the air. The most adorable baby McCoy had ever seen lay curled up in his own arms inside.

  
  


'I'm afraid we haven't the time for this,' Spock warned, and McCoy shot him a reproachful look, though he still released the memory. He stayed by with his arms outstretched to catch the dear image if it should fall, but it floated back into its place without a problem.

  
  


'Well, hop to it.'

  
  


'The link will be stronger if I can anchor it near memories you have of myself.' Spock patiently explained. 'Ideally positive ones,' he added as an after-thought. McCoy thought he knew as well as McCoy did that at least one of those pits had his name on it. McCoy tried to recollect more positive images. Debates, though sometimes misconstrued as arguments, had always been fun to him. Several mirrors began to glow, but McCoy wanted something stronger. McCoy thought about Spock's fierce loyalty, intelligence, patience, and kindness. A whole section of mirrors lit up now, and McCoy was surprised by how numerous they were. They hurried over, careful of the landmines scattered around the floor. Somewhere along the way, McCoy passed an old, moldy chest that instantly began to shake and tremor. He noticed a large lock on the front. It gave him the heebie-jeebies.

  
  


'What's that?' McCoy stopped and drew Spock's attention.

  
  


'That is something that I believe we should discuss in great detail at a later date.'

  
  


The pair continued walking toward the glowing mirrors, but McCoy wasn't prepared to leave the conversation at that. 'But what is it?'

  
  


Spock did not sigh or complain at his persistence, simply answered the question efficiently. That's another thing that Spock was good at. Efficiency. Another set of mirrors lit up, and he quirked an eyebrow at McCoy. 'It is a repressed memory. A memory that you have consciously and forcefully chosen not to remember.' McCoy consciously and forcefully chose not to dwell on what could be in that box as they had arrived. To distract himself, McCoy picked up one of the glowing mirrors while Spock anchored an end of the chain to the ground. The doctor watched through the mirror as Spock and McCoy discussed the pros and cons of an omnivorous diet. it was one of the few debates that McCoy had actually won by logic. Evolutionarily, it made sense for people to eat both meat and plants because it would allow them to have a wider range in diet and obtain necessary vitamins and minerals more readily. Spock had conceded his point but did not desist in consuming a strictly vegetarian diet.

  
  


By the time the memory ended, Spock had finished his work and shifted to glance through the numerous images hovering in the air around them. Even he could not resist the curiosity. His reaction to this new link was much better than how he'd handled linking to his emotions, which was great because McCoy wasn't sure what he could have done in this room to protect him. Spock nodded in a satisfied manner and led the way out of the room. He wasn't talking, so McCoy started a conversation himself, 'So... there are two more anchors? Where do they go?'

  
  


'I intend to anchor one into your logic and reasoning center and the other into your knowledge.'

  
  


'Shouldn't my knowledge and my memories be, like, the same thing?'

  
  


'They are closely related in the same way that your memories and emotions are closely related. However, they are not one in the same.' Spock explained, 'Have you ever worked with a patient who has amnesia?'

  
  


'Yeah.' McCoy agreed, not really sure where he was going with this. McCoy had, in fact, worked with several.

  
  


'And although many cannot recall anything about their past, they are still quite capable of communicating. Are they not?' Spock asked it as a question but did not wait for a response. Why would he when he already knew that McCoy understood? 'However, I am less concerned about protecting your knowledge than your logic, no matter how small that may be, as Ninyal appears to value your knowledge.'

  
  


'Now, listen here, you -'

  
  


'Quiet.' Spock interrupted and went completely still. 'They're coming. We have only a few minutes.' In silent agreement, both took off running. McCoy nearly fell into a hole, but Spock grabbed his hand and yanked hard. He did not let go as they hurried out the door. McCoy slammed it shut. 'Which way?' Spock urged.

  
  


McCoy wasn't sure, but they didn't have time for McCoy to not be sure. He reasoned that Spock was probably right and his logic center would be smaller than his knowledge. Not because he didn't have much logic, but because he had an abundance of knowledge. The building had been very symmetrical from the outside so perhaps the room they were looking for stood opposite of his emotional room. It was all McCoy had to go on, so McCoy ran that way, using the dimensions of the building, the recollection of the path to the emotions' room and a fiery desperation to get them there. Whatever half-baked reasoning that he'd employed worked, and they were able to find the room. McCoy wondered if it simply appeared because he'd used logic to find it or if he'd actually been accurate in his assessments but dismissed the thoughts immediately.

  
  


Spock called another end of the link to him and followed McCoy into the room. Spock didn't hesitate to anchor the link in the room. He used none of the same care in placement and sturdiness as he had before, but they were out of time. Whatever he accomplished now would be all McCoy could hope for. He turned to the doctor, opened his mouth and vanished.

  
  


.o0o.


	11. Chapter 11

.o0o.

Part 11  
.o0o.

  
  


"Open your eyes." After all this time not using his ears to hear Spock's voice, it was strange to switch back to the 'normal' way of talking.

  
  


McCoy jerked and peeled his eyes open, instantly feeling dizzy and nauseous. His head was pounding with an award-winning migraine, and McCoy was pretty sure his brain had grown legs and was doing flips on a trampoline inside his battered head. He wondered if this was a natural side-effect of linking minds or if it was just because his own mind had never experienced such a vigorous psychic workout. Was this what it would always feel like when Spock entered his mind? He shuddered. Whatever the case, McCoy would not be making fun of the three month honeymoon tradition of Vulcans again.

  
  


Vaguely, McCoy could hear footsteps and the abhorrent sound of metal scraping on metal. Was that the metal chain of the link because he hadn't closed the door properly? Or was the link sliding because it hadn't been anchored in all four places? McCoy belatedly realized that his eyes were closed again, and it took a great deal of effort to open them without vomiting. Apparently the scraping sound had been the metal on the barred doors sliding to the side as their captors entered. The room was still spinning, but McCoy felt comforted by the warm hand Spock placed on his back, a pianist's hand.

  
  


He wasn't startled when he spoke into his mind this time, 'Calm yourself. You feel ill because of your mental state. The process was rushed and not completed. These side-effects are to be expected. Clear your mind.' This time, McCoy allowed Spock to project calmness into his mind and McCoy did feel better. The room was only listing now (or maybe that was his head) and his head-ache eased. McCoy also became very aware of the boots planted in front of him.

  
  


"Come." Said the boots, or the owner of the boots, McCoy couldn't tell which. Had Spock messed something up in his head? "It is time for the procedure." The boots continued.

  
  


"Like hell." McCoy growled, although his efforts to look fierce were slightly subdued by the fact that McCoy couldn't seem to rise to his feet. Spock helped McCoy to stand, keeping a hand on his upper arm for balance. "If you think I'm just going to roll over because you said so, you've got another thing coming."

  
  


The face that greeted him was not Ninyal. Nor was it anyone he recognized. But McCoy didn't like him. Their captor chuckled, motioning to the two men behind him that McCoy hadn't even seen. "We'll see how much of a fight you put up when your mind has been wiped clean. Everything about you will be dead, except the parts that we want."

  
  


"You'll never succeed." McCoy barked, with more confidence than he felt.

  
  


"Take this one to the chamber." He instructed his minions.

  
  


'Fear not,' Spock comforted just before McCoy was yanked from his grasp. 'I shall endeavor to protect your mind.'

  
  


McCoy sincerely hoped so.

  
  


.o0o.


	12. Chapter 12

.o0o.

Part 12

.o0o.

  
  


Spock could feel McCoy's fear rolling off of him in waves as he was dragged from the room, but noted that McCoy was surprisingly skilled at keeping that fear off of his face. Instead, he projected an air of anger that Spock had long since become familiar with. For all that McCoy blustered about how hiding one's emotions was bad for a person, he certainly was adept at hiding his own fear.

  
  


After McCoy was pulled away and all the guards had gone, Spock drew himself into a corner and sat cross-legged. Closing his eyes and clearing his mind, he entered a deep state of meditation. Finding the newly placed link inside his mind with ease, he followed the chain straight into McCoy's mind, not halted by the barriers now that the link was firmly in place. He could feel the onslaught by the strange, mechanized telepath against McCoy's outer walls. He doubted they would be able to keep standing after this.

  
  


'Doctor.' Spock called out, but received no response. He concluded that he was likely in hiding and Spock thought that finding him might cause more damage by leading the machine straight toward his personality.

  
  


Deciding that the doctor's memories would likely be the first target, Spock followed the chain to the anchor in McCoy's memory room. The pounding seemed to be getting louder and Spock concluded that he didn't have much time. He was surprised to find McCoy in the room grabbing a glowing mirror from the air, another bundle tucked under his arm. Contemplating this new information led Spock to the conclusion that this was not an illogical move for the doctor to make but would ultimately be unsuccessful.

  
  


'Doctor.' He tried again, this time earning McCoy's attention.

  
  


'Spock!' He responded, and Spock felt his hope flourish. 'Help me out with these.' He dumped the six memories in Spock's arms and Spock took them without complaint.

  
  


'Doctor.' Spock tried again. 'I suggest you hide yourself.'

  
  


McCoy looked illogically indignant. 'I'm going to stay here and fight.'

  
  


'For you to do so would be entirely fruitless.' Spock stated calmly. 'You do not have the capacity to fight this, and I do not wish to be distracted by your presence.'

  
  


McCoy bristled at the perceived insult but reasoned that (though he'd never admit it out loud) Spock was right, and his best chance of survival lay in hiding himself. If all else failed, he would at least have a few memories. He grabbed the mirrors back from Spock and ran from the room.

  
  


A moment later, Spock's hypothesis about the first target of the machine proved correct. He rationalized the machine as an amorphous black smog that crept under the door and spread its tendrils across the room. Spock worked quickly and ruthlessly to push the darkness back. It fought back and Spock reasoned that they must have made some improvements to the design after seeing Spock unharmed. Three mirrors broke and another five cracked before Spock was able to drive the thing out of the room. It disappeared down a hallway.

  
  


Taking a mental breather from the exertion, Spock debated his options. The machine would likely leave the doctor's knowledge alone as Ninyal had need of it. Would it attack the logic center when the doctor's work required it as well? Did Ninyal know how important reasoning was for a doctor? On the other hand, would Ninyal expect McCoy to stay without logical tampering?

  
  


Or would the machine adjust his emotions next as had clearly been done to the other slaves?

  
  


  
  


Taking a few precious seconds to seal the memories door as best he could, Spock moved swiftly toward the doctor's prized emotions. Though he was loath to abandon the logic center, he was certain this was what the doctor would want. More importantly, logic could be re-established, but emotions tended to resist reconfiguring. Once they were destroyed, it was nearly impossible to establish them again. The machine was not there. Still, Spock took the time to secure the door before moving on. The locks would not stop the machine, but it would slow it down significantly if he lost sight of it again.

  
  


McCoy's logic center was designed similarly to an old-style library, complete with books made of paper. Nearly half of them were currently ablaze in a heap on the floor. Spock tore into the machine's essence, forcing it from the room with greater speed and efficiency than their first encounter. Fueled by the destruction of his race's most honored trait, Spock was able to take control of the situation. He pushed the destroyer back until it was in the forum at the front of McCoy's mind. It writhed for a moment before lunging to attack. Spock fought it off.

  
  


It lunged again and this time, Spock struggled with it for several minutes before forcing it completely out of the doctor's mind. McCoy was now rid of the machine's destructive force, but he was uncertain of the damage inflicted. Exhausted, Spock fell back into his own mind.

  
  


.o0o.


	13. Chapter 13

.o0o.

Part 13

.o0o.

 

            Jim Kirk was a good captain.  And as a good captain, Captain Kirk prided himself on his keen sense of intuition.  Good command decisions came from intelligence and logic carefully balanced against emotions and morality coupled with experience, but when things went south (as they did alarmingly often for one James Kirk), nothing was more valuable than a gut feeling. So when Ninyal carefully explained that he had not seen Healer McCoy or Spock at all that day and Kirk’s intuition told him otherwise, he went with his gut.

            Kirk turned to Uhura.  “Still nothing?” 

            “Thistle reports no trace of them so far.”

            Kirk stifled a groan of frustration which quickly turned into a yawn.  He hadn’t bothered going to bed after taking the night shift, opting to wish Bones off in the transporter room instead.  No matter how often he was forced to use the device, the transporter still made the good doctor nervous, and it was an unspoken favor for Kirk to see him off whenever he wasn’t busy.  He estimated that Bones would be back in a half hour and want to gripe about being turned down again, so he hadn’t gone to bed then, either.

            When an hour of passed with no sign of either of his best friends, Kirk concluded that they’d managed to get in and silently congratulated them on the success. However, he knew he wouldn’t sleep well until both of them were safely back on the ship, so instead, he set about doing his reports.  In another hour, Kirk began to get a bad feeling; McCoy shouldn’t be taking that long.  Spock was with him though, and he would check in if anything were wrong.  He commed Uhura to see if they’d checked in yet, then continued working on his reports. 

            At three hours, well before their scheduled check-in, Kirk gave up any pretense of working and heading to the bridge.  He relieved Sulu and sat down heavily in his chair.  The slight tingling in the pit of his stomach had turned into a full blown knot, and he waved off Rand when she offered to bring him some lunch.

            While Kirk genuinely had hoped that he’d been wrong, he was nonetheless unsurprised when one o’clock came around and the communications station stayed deadly quiet.  He frowned and asked Uhura to attempt to contact them.  He didn’t bother waiting the standard fifteen minutes before beaming himself down to the planet’s surface with two security guards.  Something was wrong, and he knew it. 

            “Captain!”  Ninyal greeted amiably when he stormed into the main chamber of his palace. 

            “Emperor Ninyal.”  Kirk responded coldly and formally.  It wouldn’t do to muddle relations with this man should it turn out to be nothing.  “I sent Mr. Spock and Doctor McCoy down over four hours ago, and they have not yet reported in.  Do you know what’s keeping them?”

            “That is most distressing news, Captain.”  Ninyal proclaimed, eyebrow-less face drawing into a deep frown. “I have not seen the Healer or Mr. Spock in days.”

            Kirk heard warning klaxons going off in his head but tapped down on his anger.  “I sent them to the standard meeting place.  You have guards there to meet us, the same guards that brought me here, and you’re telling me that you have not seen them?  Is it possible that they weren’t brought directly to you?” 

            “No.” Ninyal refuted.  “My guards have explicit orders to report to me should anyone beam down at that location.”  Ninyal seemed to think for a moment, long enough to Kirk to open his mouth to demand another option, before offering one himself.  “There was a… dispute between Emperor Yoramyn’s men and my own in that area this morning.  My guards were briefly removed from the area to assist.  It is possible that your men arrived during this period and went elsewhere without my knowledge.”

            “They came to see you.  They wouldn’t go anywhere else.” Although his tone had hardened and his voice rose in volume, Kirk prided himself on refraining from calling Ninyal an idiot and/or a liar.  It was a close call.

            “Then I suppose the only other possibility is that they were detained by Yoramyn.  If you wish, I can open a channel with him immediately.”  Ninyal offered helpfully.

            “No, thank you.” Kirk didn’t want to appear to be in collusion with Ninyal should Spock and Bones turn out to be Yoramyn’s captives as they were obviously opposing factions.  “I shall engage him myself.  You won’t mind if I leave a few people here in case they turn up.”  It was a statement, and they both knew it.  If Ninyal refused, it would be an admission of some wrong doing.  But if Kirk ordered them to search the place, it would also break the unspoken truce between them. 

            “Of course.  I am concerned about the Healer’s well-being myself.”

            Kirk nodded to Thistle.  “You said you found Emperor Ninyal’s palace most beautiful.  Perhaps he can get someone to show you around while you wait.”  Thistle had said no such thing.  In fact, she’d commented on tacky color schemes the moment she’d returned from her last trip.   The order was clear.  “Report back to me if you hear anything at all.”

            “Aye, sir.”  Thistle said stiffly, glad for the phaser at her side. 

            “Thank you for your assistance in this matter.”  Kirk added to Ninyal politely.  “I will speak with Yoramyn and let you know once we have located them.”

            Kirk sped from the room without waiting for a response and took to running the minute he was outside the room. As he hurried along, he cursed the disrupter shield around the palace that would prevent him from scanning the palace directly and from communicating with his ship immediately.   He was only slightly out of breath when he plucked his communicator from his waist and demanded to be beamed back aboard.   Within seconds, he was running for the bridge while asking Uhura to open a channel to the neighboring emperor.  Rushing probably wouldn’t make a difference, but he couldn’t stand the thought that his friends might be in danger.  He took the time to breathe on the turbolift and mentally composed an appropriate inquiry for Yoramyn.

            When he entered the bridge, Yoramyn was already on the viewscreen, seemingly excited about being addressed by the newcomers, and Kirk momentarily wished that they’d been dealing with this Bloringdian the whole time.  He was much younger than Ninyal and had an air of adventure and mischief about him.  Still, he seemed honest and helpful. 

            “Emperor Yoramyn, I presume?”

            “Captain Kirk.”  Yoramyn responded as a statement.  He’d clearly been reading up on the federation.  A good sign thus far.  “It is a pleasure to finally meet your acquaintance.  I had feared that my kingdom might be excluded from the discussions entirely as we possess little in the way of dilithium crystals.”

            Kirk put on his diplomatic face and refrained from informing the Emperor that he had been excluded from the treaty and would likely have only been included in a secondary, less profitable treaty.   Instead, he settled on, “the United Federation of Planets extends its welcome.”

            “My thanks.  However, I suspect that you have something else you wish to discuss at present.”

            “Very observant.  Two of my officers have gone missing on your planet’s surface.  I would appreciate your assistance in locating them.”

            Yoramyn’s eyes narrowed, and Kirk thought that he would spew something insulting for a second.  “Ninyal accused me of kidnapping, didn’t he?”

            Kirk decided that he liked the frank tone Yoramyn had taken on.  Things were so much easier that way.  “There was some confusion after your altercation this morning.”

            “What altercation?  My men have strict orders to leave Ninyal alone during your discussions.  It is taboo to involve oneself in another’s treaty negotiations.”

            Now Kirk was unsure of what to do.  Yoramyn appeared sincere in his claims, but even if he were telling the truth, it did not mean that an attack didn’t take place.  “As a commanding officer, I appreciate that it can sometimes be challenging to maintain order among your subordinates. If you assist me in the safe return of my men, I assure you that this matter will not reflect poorly upon you.”

            “And I assure you that no such altercation took place.  However, as an act of good faith, I will do what I can to help you.”

            Kirk wanted desperately to glance over at Spock for a silent assessment or watch Bones’ face crinkle either in support or objection.  But they were the reason he was in this mess.  “Lower your shields so that we might scan your domain for our people.”

            “I cannot do that.”  Yoramyn stated firmly, and Kirk thought that maybe his original assessment had been incorrect. But he wasn’t about to give in so easily.

            “Then allow my people to search in your region.”

            “Done.  You may send as many people as you deem necessary with complete access to everything you wish to look at.  I hope this will convince you of my intentions.”

            Kirk hadn’t expected that to work and was momentarily stunned into silence.  “Thank you, your cooperation is noted.  I will be sending a search party momentary.”  Kirk cut it without waiting for a response.  Deciding that this could still be a trap, he sent four teams of three well-armed security officers to search Yoramyn’s territory.  Either he had nothing to hide or was very confident about what he’d hidden. His doubts about Ninyal could only grow.

            He pondered the two Bloringdians for several long minutes and the possibilities about what might be happening to his friends.  After checking in with Uhura, he turned to his young navigator.

            “Chekov.  Scans?”

           “Humans register too similar to Bloringdians to be easily found, but Vulcans should appear quite noticeably.  However, I’ve scanned the entire land mass with no sign of Mr. Spock.”

            “He must be under the shields then.  Until they are located, I want the area directly around Ninyal’s palace and Yoramyn’s palace to be scanned every five minutes.”  Kirk responded firmly.  If they could get out for even a moment, he would be able to beam them up immediately.

            “Even the water, sir?”

            “Is it directly around the palaces?”  Kirk all but growled, tense, nervous and tired.

            “Yes, sir.”

           “Then what do you think?”  Now he was definitely snarling, but he couldn’t help it.  His friends were missing.

            “Yes, sir.”

            There was silence on the bridge for a full minute as no one dared to invoke Kirk’s wrath.   They all knew how much Doctor McCoy and Spock meant to the captain.  Then, Uhura broke in, headstrong as always.  “Captain, perhaps you should get some sleep.”

            “I have to help them.”

            “You’ll be more help if you’re alert when they’re found.”  Uhura countered firmly, then lowered her voice to a whisper that echoed loudly on the bridge.  “I promise to wake you the instant I get anything.”

            Kirk stared into her eyes and saw the logic behind her argument.  He also knew for purely emotional reasons that she would personally see to any and all messages while he was asleep.  And because Kirk was a good captain, he had to concede.  “Sulu, you have the con.”

 

.o0o.


	14. Chapter 14

.o0o.

Part 14

.o0o.

 

            When the man awoke, he wasn’t entirely sure that he was awake.  Everything felt slightly off and… wrong, somehow.  He felt like he was still asleep, but was equally sure that he was awake.  He wasn’t sure where he was, only that the bed beneath him was soft and quite probably designed for someone of a smaller build from the way his feet stuck off the edge. He recognized everything but he wasn’t sure why or how.  He couldn’t remember anything at all. 

            He thought that he should be afraid or upset, but he wasn’t.  He wasn’t curious and he wasn’t angry either.  He was just… confused.

            Throwing off the covers, he hurried to the window, yanked open some drawers of a tall, thin cabinet and rifled through the clothes at the foot of his bed.   He’d vaguely hoped that one of these actions would spur some memory within him, but there was nothing. 

            The door to his chamber opened and another man walked in slowly.  On second thought, the new man was no man at all.  His fingers were much too long and his build was wrong.  The man thought that he should know whoever this was but couldn’t place him.   “You’re awake.” The stranger stated.

            “Uh.” The man responded.  “Where am I?”

            “Do you not recognize me?”  The newcomer countered.  The man shook his head. “I am Gesull. We have been friends for many years.  You don’t remember?”

            “To tell you the truth, I can’t remember much of anything.”

            Gesull nodded.  “I suppose that’s to be expected when one has an accident like yours.  Though I had hoped it wouldn’t be this serious.  Do you remember your name?”

            A memory floated by and the man grasped at it. 

            _“Bones.” He looked up at the sound.  Waiting impatiently by his desk was a young blond man, grinning widely and holding out a letter.  He took it and skimmed it over._

_“You made it!  I don’t believe it, Jim.”_

_“That’s Captain Kirk to you, Bones.”_

_“I can’t believe they’re trusting you with a ship.” Bones went on as if he hadn’t spoken, shaking his head slightly._

_Jim pouted, “And here I was going to ask you to join me.”_

_“I don’t know, Jim.  Planet-side positions like with the Capellans are one thing, but you’re talking about an extended stay in a tin can. You know how I feel about those things.  It’s an accident waiting to happen.”_

_Jim didn’t falter.  “Then I’ll need a good surgeon to put me back together.”_

_“I’ll think about it.”_

_“Great.”  Jim grinned again, boyishly. “I’ll leave you to pack.”_

_“Jim!” Bones shouted as the other man hurried to the door.  Jim turned, hesitating, but Bones wasn’t going to yell at him.  “Congratulations at making captain.”_

            Gesull was still looking at him and the man gave a half-shrug.  “I think my name is Bones.”

            Gesull didn’t confirm or deny it, so Bones figured he must have been right.   “Can you recall anything else?”

            Bones thought about it, but he couldn’t grab onto anything else.  A few faces passed by, but they were vague and distorted.  He shrugged.  “I got nothing.”

            “Very well.” Gesull responded in a way that made Bones wonder how they could ever have been friends.  Maybe they were really more of work buddies.  Or long term acquaintances.  “You and I are Unferun; we work for our lodging and food here at the palace.  You work as a Healer, and I have been your assistant for three years.  You were collecting reagents for the treatment of the Emperor’s daughter when you tumbled a great distance and hit your head.  I will take you to your laboratory to see if this will help you recall.”

            “Sure.” Bones agreed.  None of this was ringing any bells for him, but it did seem right that he worked to heal people.  Bones followed Gesull out of the room and down several hallways, trying to memorize the way as he went.  He’d half expected to feel a flood of memories appear upon setting foot in this place where he supposedly spent most of his time, but nothing happened. 

            Gesull went about pointing to where things were kept.  “And here is where we put the uhlimeffs.”  He finished, turning around expectantly.

            Bones scratched the itch at the side of his nose and wondered if it mattered that he hadn’t been sure what half the things were and was certain he didn’t recognize any of the names.  He pulled out the ‘elent’ and fiddled with the handle.  He still couldn’t remember anything but he was pretty sure this elent was supposed to be called a microscope. But it was designed poorly.  He could think of five different ways to make it work better off the top of his head, but how did that make any sense if he supposedly used this thing all the time?  Was there simply no proper supplies?  He idly slid a sample on and looked into the eyepiece. 

            “Shouldn’t you be waiting for me to remember this stuff on my own?” 

            “Perhaps that would be better.” Gesull admitted.  “But the Emperor’s daughter needs your help.  I dare not wait for you to remember something that you might never remember.”

            Bones sighed.  “I don’t know how much help I’ll be.  I don’t even remember how to use most of these… things.”

          “Perhaps you would do better with this.”  Gesull said as he pulled out another device.  “It was your favorite.”

            Bones did recognize this one, though he couldn’t remember where or how.  “Now that’s a tricorder.”

            Gesull smiled.  “See?  You can do this.” He handed the device over.

            Playing with the tricorder, Bones wondered why it seemed so much more familiar than anything else.  Still, he could think of no reason why Gesull would lie to him.  He didn’t know what it was like to lose one’s memory, so perhaps this was all normal.  “Why don’t we go take some more readings?”  He suggested.

            The rest of the day was a blur.  After the initial thrill of working with the familiar tricorder wore off, Bones found himself forced to utilize strange and stranger equipment.  After giving up on recognizing what he wanted, he began to describe to Gesull in detail what he wanted to do.  Sometimes, the man with the long fingers would nod and fetch a device while giving lengthy descriptions to its function.  Other times, Gesull would pause and shake his head slowly, explaining that nothing existed that would do what Bones was asking him.  Only, Bones was sure that there was.

            Gesull walked Bones back to his room when the day was finished and bid him a good rest.  Bones eagerly fell into bed and let his mind wander.  It had been a long day full of confusion and he was glad for the break.  Within minutes, he was fast asleep. 

            _“Doctor.”  A voice greeted him from the darkness._

_“Who are you?”  Bones demanded, thinking that this was an odd dream to be having._

_A figure formed, wavering and fading in and out of the blankness.  “I am Spock.”_

_Bones thought this sounded familiar, but he was also equally sure that familiar things didn’t count in dreams.  “And why am I dreaming of you?”_

_There was a pause as Spock stood, watching him impassively.  “I do not yet have the strength to enter your waking mind.  You must-”_

_Bones frowned and cut him off.  “I don’t like the thought of you entering my mind waking or sleeping.   Get out.”_

_And Spock was gone.  Bones wasn’t sure if it was because he had pushed him out or if Spock had been too weak to stay, and he didn’t care.  People shouldn’t be climbing into other people’s minds like that._

            The next day, Gesull appeared at his bedroom door again shortly after Bones had gotten out of bed.  He wondered at the weird sense of his to know when Bones was getting up.  Was it anything like ‘Spock’s’ ability to enter his mind?  He sure hoped not. 

            Gesull walked him back to the lab and waited patiently to be told what to do.  He noted that everything had been left exactly where he’d put it the night before.  But Bones didn’t want to go back to what they’d been doing yesterday.  It had all felt so futile and useless.  It felt like he should already know what the problem was, but his mind just hadn’t made a connection it should have before. 

            Bones sat on a chair and stared at the array laid out before him and thought.  What was he missing?  His eyes drifted over to Gesull’s long fingers clasped together in front of him.  He knew if it had been before his accident, he’d have the answer already.  Something about fingers.  Something about Gesull’s fingers.   Gesull’s fingers were not human.  “Gesull?”  Bones asked lazily.  “You’re not human.”

            Gesull made a face.  Bones wasn’t sure if he was offended or trying not to laugh.  Bones didn’t feel much like laughing.  “I am a Bloringdian.”

            “But the Emperor’s daughter.   She’s human.”  This was important, somehow, in many ways.  But Bones couldn’t say which ways those were.

            “She is Bloringdian.”

            “Half.  She’s half Bloringdian.”  Bones corrected.  Like Spock.  No.  Spock wasn’t Bloringdian.  He wasn’t sure why he’d thought that.  “She’s half Bloringdian.”  Bones repeated, marveling at the way Gesull stiffened but didn’t correct him.   “A hybrid.  Part one thing, part another.  Some of her genes are Bloringdian, and some of them are human.”

            Gesull offered no assistance and Bones damned his inability to think clearly.

            “So, sometimes she behaves like a human and sometimes she behaves like a Bloringdian.”  Bones’ head hurt.  Why was this important?  It should be obvious!  “And sometimes people treat her like she’s a Bloringdian and sometimes people treat her like a human.  Not people.  Things.  Things treat her like one or the other.  Things affect her differently.”  There!  That was it!  He’d gotten it. 

            Gesull didn’t seem to understand.   “I do not understand why we are discussing this and not helping her.”

            Bones ignored him.  “I’ll bet you that sometimes she doesn’t get sick when other people do because she’s half human.  But sometimes the treatments don’t work on her because she’s half human, too.”  Bones nodded to himself, then stood excitedly.  “Do you have any books on Bloringdian diseases?”  If he was right, maybe Bones could adapt an existing cure for her disease to take into consideration her dual heritage.  And most likely the cause of her illness would have originated on Bloringdia.  

            “Yes, but you will not be able to read our writing.”

            “Then you’ll have to translate it for me.”

 

.o0o.


	15. Chapter 15

.o0o.

Part 15

.o0o.

 

                Bones stretched and yawned.  He’d quickly found that although the medical supplies were insubstantial, the computers functioned very efficiently.  With the help of Gesull, he’d managed to search the database on native medical issues by symptoms.  The information was limited and Bones couldn’t help but wonder at a society that would develop so far technologically and not put more research into health care.  Was proper health not essential for a functioning society?  Or perhaps research had been done in the field, and it was erased.  It almost seemed as if someone had gone around and collected old folk remedies instead of actually researching.  Still, by the end of the day (and Bones was sure that days on Bloringdia were much longer than he recalled them being), he’d made significant progress.  Only three diseases remained as likely candidates.

            “I’m ready to call it a night.”  He told Gesull, punctuating his statement with another yawn. 

            Gesull didn’t look pleased by this but did not oppose him.  “Allow me to walk you back to your chamber.”

            “I’m pretty sure I can find the way on my own now.” Bones protested. 

            Gesull paused in his stride, as if thinking.  “I’m sure you could, but it was something of a… tradition for us.”

            “Damn.”  Bones grumbled.  “I hadn’t even thought of how hard this must be on you.”

            “It is enough for me to know that you are alive and well.”

            An awkward silence ensued as Bones thought of something to say.  “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

            “You already have.”  Gesull pointed out humorlessly, and Bones was thrown into another memory.

            _“Hey, Spock!” Bones called ahead, “Wait up!”_

_Spock obligingly stopped his stride and turned to wait for the doctor._

_“Can I ask you a question?”_

_“You already have.” Spock dead-panned._

_Bones blinked.  “Was that a joke?”_

_“And now you have asked me two questions with no discernable purpose.”_

_“My god, an actual joke.  I didn’t know you knew how!”  Bones grinned. “And what’s put you in such a good mood today?”_

_“Doctor, moods are derived from an emotional state.  As a Vulcan-”_

_“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Bones cut him off.  “I wish I had a camera so I could get this candid shot of the first time in history a Vulcan made a joke.”_

_Spock’s face didn’t move a muscle.  “There is something you wished to ask me, Doctor?”_

_“Oh, right!  I was wondering if you thought it might be feasible to-”_

“Healer? Are you well?” Gesull broke him from the memory, and Bones had to restrain himself from strangling him.

            “I was remembering something.”

            “Oh?”  And for perhaps the first time since Bones remembered knowing him, Gesull looked particularly interested. “What was it about?”

            Bones wasn’t sure if he should feel nervous, but his gut told him to keep his knowledge to himself.  “The klinothyselin virus has an incubation period of five weeks, so we can scratch that off our list.  Half the palace would be sick by now if it were that.”

            Gesull looked at once both relieved and disappointed as he nodded.  “Hopefully, that should make things easier.”  They’d arrived at Bones’ room.  “Did you want to ask me something?”

            “Would you show me around the palace tomorrow?  I want to see if it brings back any memories.”

            Gesull paused for a long time before responding.  “I could hardly see how that would help.  You spent all your time either here in your room or at the laboratory. Furthermore, the Emperor does not wish for us to wander.”

            “Please?”  Bones wasn’t above begging.  He had to do something to jog his memories.  “I’m sick of being cooped up.  Just for a little while?”

            Gesull smiled a little at that.  “I suppose a break now and again could only do some good.”

            Feeling like a kid who’d just gotten to stay up past his bedtime, Bones bid Gesull a good night and crawled into his bed. Sleep sounded like a great idea.

            _‘Doctor.’ Spock’s presence seemed more powerful today. He was wearing the same uniform from Bones’ memory and stood in a similar stiff posture._

_‘Spock.’ Now that Bones had remembered Spock, he felt more at ease with him being in his head.  Not comfortable, mind you, but distinctly less uncomfortable.  He and Spock had been friendly, more friendly than he could imagine being with Gesull.  That had to count for something.  And now that he thought about it, it almost felt like Spock had etched out a place for himself in Bones’ mind.  The thought didn’t terrify him, though he was sure it should.  ‘What’s going on?’_

_‘You’ve been abducted by Emperor Ninyal who wishes to use your medical skills to treat his ill daughter.’_

_‘Why can’t I remember anything?’_

_‘I was forced to seal your memories to prevent Ninyal’s machine from destroying them.’_

_‘Can’t you… unseal them?’ Bones asked optimistically._

_‘In time. I am still greatly weakened from the overexertion of first creating a link between our minds and then fighting off Ninyal’s invasion. I believe I would be able to do more if we were to make physical contact.’  Spock faded out and for a long moment, Bones was sure he was gone.  But then his voice emerged from the silence. ‘This endeavor is taxing.  You must find a way to the dungeons to release me.’_

_‘How do I know that you’re not some telepathic con artist?’_

_‘You shall simply have to trust me, Doctor.’_

Bones sat up in his bed, feeling wide awake.  He wasn’t sure if he’d dreamed after talking with Spock (or if talking with Spock had been a dream), but the night had passed and Gesull was waiting for him just inside his door.  He looked slightly impatient and Bones wondered if he’d slept in.

            “Hurry and change.”  Gesull said, pulling out an outfit for him and thrusting it under his sleepy eyes.  “We have only an hour before you would normally be expected to wake.”

            “What’s going on?”  Bones asked as he pulled on his clothes, feeling awkward with Gesull looking on unabashed.

            “The Emperor does not wish for us to wander the palace.  I suspect he does not want anything to distract you from helping his daughter. But I have grown fond of you and do not wish for you to be unhappy. If we walk the halls before he wakes, then he shall be none the wiser.”  Gesull smiled mischievously, and Bones wondered at his sudden change in character.  He had not suspected Gesull to like him at all and here he was breaking the rules for him. 

            “Thank you.”  Bones replied simply.  This Gesull was someone he could imagine having been friends with. 

            “To be honest, I’m not sure why I never thought of it before.  I simply have never gone against the Emperor’s wishes.  It hadn’t even occurred to me until you suggested we go despite the Emperor telling us not to.  But this…” Gesull turned to Bones and the blankness of his usual expression was replaced by a fierce curiosity.  “I feel alive. I can’t remember the last time I felt like this.  If I ever even have.”

            Bones thought this whole thing was giving him the heebie-jeebies. If what Spock said was true and the Emperor did have a way to erase memories, then Gesull not being able to remember things, specifically times when he felt alive, was definitely a bad sign.  Still, he couldn’t waste this opportunity.  He could right wrongs after he got his memories back.  “Can you show me where the dungeon is?”

            Gesull looked at him like he had a second head, but he didn’t say no.  “I don’t see why not.  Follow me.”

            Gesull led him across one long hall.  At the end, there appeared to be a dead-end, but Gesull wasn’t deterred. He pressed a couple bricks in and the formerly seamless wall shifted open and slid back.  Then, Gesull took him down four flights of stairs and led him across a giant chamber.  In the center was a device that Bones concluded resembled a rocket ship but probably wasn’t.  He stopped dead and starred at the machine.

            “What’s that?”  He asked.

            Gesull turned and looked at it as if seeing it for the first time.  “It is Emperor Ninyal’s most prized possession. It protects him, as it protects us all.” Gesull gazed on it as his tongue loosened, “Many, many years ago, our people used to harm one another. Violence and even death was commonplace.  Our weapon technology far surpassed our other technologies and soon weapons were created that could destroy entire cities. Everyone carried a gun.  We were on the brink of our own destruction.

“The greatest of all killers was Emperor Bloringdia. It was said that he’d personally killed a thousand men and ordered the slaughter of millions.  He was also the one who ordered the destruction of the city of Moran.  But when his army returned from Moran, their leader, his own son Ghoringdia, had been killed in the fight.  His son had always been his most precious possession.  His death allowed Emperor Bloringdia to see the true evils of violence and mend his ways. 

“Emperor Bloringdia immediately set upon writing the sacred Book of Peace, which every Bloringdian reads and learns from today.  A new way of life formed and the city of Gorinth, where he ruled, was the first to undergo the transformation.  He poured all of his acquired wealth, his greatest scientists, and all of his resources into developing the perfect defense. This shield was the result.” Gesull gestured to the rocket-shaped machine.  “Impervious to any attack from the outside, including scans or signals, it was the perfect defense.  But he also designed it to disable any advanced weaponry within the shield so only the most basic devices would even function.  And then he did something unheard of in that time.  He gave it away.  He gave one shield to every city.  Protected from outside attacks and unable to use violence within, people began to adopt Emperor Bloringdia’s ways.  And we have been at peace ever since.”

“If everyone’s adopted this doctrine of peace, why keep the shields at all?”  Bones questioned.  What Bones really wanted to know was if the shield had also inhibited advanced medical growth as well by rendering that technology ineffective.  And if that was true, why did Bones know all about these technologies?

 “The Book of Peace says that one day, all the shields will be lowered and all people will be united.  There will no longer be Unferun and there will no longer be Emperors.  All people will have equal power and equal say.” Gesull smiled ruefully.  “But only the Emperors know how to turn them off, so I can’t imagine that happening any time soon.”

 Gesull took one last long look at the shield before leading Bones away.  “So your people never fight?”

“Most of us.” Gesull affirmed.  “Although there are exceptions to every rule.  Mostly, we attempt to convince others with our words, which is why good speakers are so valued among us.”

“Then why are there dungeons?  Do you just ask people nicely to step into a cell?”

Gesull actually laughed at this.  “Of course we do.  Though, they sometimes do not agree.  As I said, there are always exceptions. If someone were to go mad and hurt others, force may be necessary to subdue them.  All of our guard Unferuns are trained to fight, but not to hurt.  It is for emergencies only.  And even then, one would never kill.  Death is never an option, even in self-defense.”  Gesull rounded a corner and pointed down a stairwell.  “Well, there it is.  The dungeons are right down there.  We should head back to the laboratory now.”

It was all rather anti-climactic.

“Can’t we go down there?”  Bones delayed enough for Gesull to have to turn around.  In an uncharacteristically physical gesture, he took hold of Bones’ arm as he led him away. 

“It’s expressly forbidden.”

“Aren’t we already breaking rules by coming down here against the Emperor’s orders?”

Gesull shook his head.  “It’s not the same thing.  There are little things like this, and there are big things like that.” 

Bones carefully memorized the route on the way back up.  He’d have to return this same way if he wanted to get to Spock.  He wasn’t completely sure he did want to.  Gesull’s version of events made more sense than Spock’s theories about memory-erasing machines.  How would that even work, anyway?  What if his memory of Spock had simply been planted by Spock himself? How could he trust a telepath futzing around with his brain over the kind, smiling form of Gesull who broke the rules just to make him happy? 

 

.o0o.


	16. Chapter 16

.o0o.

Part 16

.o0o.

            The whole adventure to the bowels of the palace had taken roughly forty-five minutes, so they should have arrived back at the labs before Emperor Ninyal even awoke.  Should have being the operative words.  However, when Bones and Gesull rounded the last corner before they reached the laboratory, they almost ran directly into the Emperor himself.   He was flanked by two guards and looked pissed.  Bones decided instantly that he preferred not having to talk to this person.

            Bones and Gesull were at a loss for words, but Ninyal clearly had a speech in mind. “Unferun!  I gave you explicit orders not to wander about, and I have reports of both of you being seen in the West Wing.   Do you have so little regard for me that you would blatantly disobey?” Bones wasn’t sure what to say and Gesull clearly didn’t want to say anything, and that seemed fine by Ninyal who was content to rant.  “As leader of this region, it falls on me to protect my people and this can only be accomplished through obedience.  If you are unwilling to follow my commands, you are a danger to us all. Furthermore, I assigned you the task of helping my daughter, a job of extreme personal value to me, only to have you attempt to flaunt your power over me.   I will not tolerate such disrespect, neither on a personal level, nor a professional one.”  Ninyal seemed to stand up even taller and glare down at Gesull, despite being the same height.  “You will accompany me for your punishment.”

            When Ninyal turned his full attention on him, Bones realized that he’d been completely exempt from this punishment and knew he had to correct this injustice.  It had been his suggestion, his fault, that had gotten Gesull into trouble. Ninyal didn’t acknowledge that in his next words, “Healer, you will continue your work.  I will send you another assistant.”

            Seemingly satisfied, Ninyal turned to leave.  “Emperor, wait!”  Bones quickly stepped forward.  The word “emperor” left a nasty taste in his mouth which he didn’t have the time to dwell on.  He could feel that something bad was going to happen to Gesull if he let him out of his sight.  From the expression on the Bloringdian’s face, he knew it, too.  It was time to play humble.  “I understand that what we did was wrong, and I deeply regret it.  However, Gesull has proved invaluable to my research, and I feel like we almost have the cure for your daughter.  If I were to change assistants now, it would set me back at least a day’s work.”

            Ninyal’s anger grew and for a minute, Bones was positive his suggestion would be completely ignored.   The emperor clearly had never had anyone talk back to him, and he didn’t seem to appreciate Bones starting now.  His care for his daughter apparently won out and he nodded.  “Very well.”  He spoke as if it had all been his idea. “Because your work is needed at the moment, you will only receive a warning.  I assure you, though, that such disrespect will not be tolerated a second time.”  And then Ninyal was gone, storming down the hall like a spoiled toddler.

            Bones let out a sigh he hadn’t known he’d been holding.  Gesull turned toward him, eyes wide.  “I can’t believe you just did that.” He said with a bit of awe in his voice.

            “Well, it hardly seemed fair that he was punishing just you.  Besides, switching assistants always makes things harder.”   Bones shrugged it off, and he finally entered the lab two doors down.  It wouldn’t set him back a full day, but Bones wasn’t done with Gesull yet. He closed the door. It wouldn’t do to let prying ears in on their conversation.

Unlike the day before, the room was not exactly as he’d left it.  On one of the empty tables at the back of the room, an assortment of flowers, leaves, and roots had been laid out.  “What’s this?”  He asked.

Gesull seemed to have finally shaken off the emperor’s visit and smiled wanely.  “Well, you said you thought it was either a severe case of yutodi flu or the Noxindor Disorder, since it definitely wasn’t the klinothyselin virus.  So I had the herbs most commonly used to cure these issues brought here.”

Bones nodded.  That would save them time.  “Excellent.”  He congratulated, pleased by the unexpected forethought.  Bones wanted to dive right into the work, but something was still bothering him about the encounter with Ninyal.  “If your people never cause violence, how was Ninyal going to punish you?”

Gesull looked thrown by this question.   He licked his lips.  “Well, you know… I don’t know.”

Bones raised a disbelieving eyebrow.  “You don’t know?  You’ve never been punished before?”

“No.  I’ve never been punished before.  I can’t remember ever being in trouble, either.”

“Then what were you afraid of?”

“I…”  Gesull seemed to think about it for a long moment.  “I’m not sure.  I just felt dread.”

Bones admitted to himself that he couldn’t relate.  He couldn’t remember feeling dread.  Hadn’t felt much at all, lately, besides an idle sense of curiosity. He gnawed at the inside of his lip.  “So, I saved you.”

“You did.” Gesull stated, gratitude clear in his voice.

“You owe me, then.”  Gesull nodded hesitantly.  “I want you to spill the beans.”

“Sorry?”

 Bones noted that Gesull looked entirely perplexed. It didn’t cheer him the way he had hoped. “Tell the truth.  I want you to tell the truth.  Stop keeping whatever you’re keeping from me.”

A look of guilt crept over Gesull’s features and he looked down.  He didn’t pretend to not know what Bones was talking about.  He looked incredibly young in that moment and Bones wondered briefly how old he actually was.  He reminded him of a teenager going through an apprenticeship. But for all Bones knew, he could be an old man.  “The Emperor asked me to lie to you.  We have not known each other for three years.  I hadn’t even met you before three days ago.  I’m sorry I don’t know more.  I don’t know where you come from or how long you’ve been here.  I only know that you are a skilled healer who couldn’t remember anything and you were to take care of the emperor’s daughter. I was supposed to assist you with finding things and research and make sure you didn’t go anywhere but here and your chamber. That’s it.”

Bones absorbed this information quickly because it wasn’t really a surprise to him.  But Gesull had to know something else.  “Was anyone else with me?” Spock?

“I don’t know.” Gesull looked miserable, and Bones wasn’t sure if it was because he was telling him all of this or because he didn’t have any more to tell.

            “Well, what do you know?”

            “That’s all!”  Gesull exclaimed.

            “Think, man.” Bones encouraged.  “What about other humans?  The Emperor’s daughter is half-human.  Where’s her mother?”

            “She’s in the room next to her daughter’s.  She used to wander all over the palace, but she hasn’t been seen ever since her daughter got sick.”  Gesull took a breath.  “I’ve seen another human, too, looking around the palace.  I’m not sure why.”

            “What’d he look like?”  Bones jumped in.  Perhaps it was the Jim from his memory? “Describe him to me.”

            Gesull shook his head.  “It was a woman.”

            Bones frowned and racked his brain, but the only woman he could come up with was a young girl named Joanna, who looked at him with adoring eyes. “Describe her to me.”

             “She had hair like yours, but longer.” Gesull made a face.  “You humans look so similar.” 

Bones snorted.  He’d thought the same thing about the Bloringdians.  Apparently, they just remembered different features.  Maybe there was something easier for him to remember.  “What was she wearing?”

“A red dress, with tall black shoes. There was a… symbol here.”  Gesull pointed to his own chest. 

Bones fished around for the paper he’d been taking notes on and flipped it over.  “Draw it.”  Gesull obediently reconstructed the strange symbol from memory as Bones looked on.  It reminded him of something….

_“Starfleet.”_

_“Excuse me?” Bones grunted, grudgingly turning from his drink toward the man who’d settled himself on the stool next to him.  The strong, military man who was looking at him with enough interest to be unsettling._

_“Starfleet’s the answer to your problems.”  He said cryptically, turning away as if he’d never been looking and ordering a beer. Generic brand._

_Bones felt himself becoming angry.  “What the hell do you think you know about my problems?”  He barked, abandoning his drink entirely. He wasn’t prone to starting bar fights, but this arrogant bastard made him rethink his priorities._

_“Recently divorced, left on the wrong end of a custody battle, kicked out from your own house, lost a private practice, and spending the last of your savings left over from the lawyers on getting drunk.” The man’s voice was clipped and harsh._

_Bones looked at him with fire in his eyes.  He couldn’t remember wanting to hit someone quite so badly.   His dignity was all he had left and this stranger was slicing away at it.  He forced himself to calm and turned back to his beer, like none of it mattered. “You’re a lousy recruiter.”_

_The man laughed and the urge to throw a punch grew again.  “I’m not really a recruiter.  Name’s Chris Pike, Captain Chris Pike, of the U.S.S. Enterprise.”_

_Bones squashed the slight rise of feeling impressed ruthlessly.  Even he’d heard of the Enterprise, and he avoided news about space like the plague.  Instead, he put on his snarkiest attitude, his voice dripping with sarcasm.  “To what do I owe this pleasure, Captain?”_

_“I want you on my ship.” Bones snorted, but Pike continued on.  “My Chief Medical Officer is looking to retire in a couple years, and I need to replace him with the best.  He says your research is breakthrough and your skill as a surgeon is top-notch.”  He didn’t need to say that Bones would have to go through the Academy and finish top of his class in order to jump into such an important position. Pike didn’t seem concerned about that little detail.  He was confident, perhaps overly so, and he knew he had this man pegged. “And you, you’d get a new chance at your career and be away from the knowledge that your daughter is just across the block and you’re forbidden from seeing her.”_

_Pike cleverly stood up and took a step back, as if preparing for Bones to swing at him.  If Bones had been less drunk (or more drunk), he would have, but instead he just let his head hit the bar with a loud thunk and grumbled.  “Get the hell away from me.”  When he raised his head, Pike was gone, but an official information card was lying next to his head with departure times, academic information, and phone numbers, including the number of one Chris Pike.  At the top was a malformed arrow-head, the symbol of Starfleet._

Gesull was looking at him expectantly when Bones snapped out of it.  “Thanks.”  He said, still lost in his thoughts.  That symbol was on the woman from Gesull’s description, on Jim, and on Spock.  They were all connected; they were all _real_.  It was this place that was fake.  This place was full of lies and deceit. He’d made his decision.  “I need to go back to the dungeon.”

 

.o0o.


	17. Chapter 17

.o0o.

Part 17

.o0o.

“I need to go back to the dungeon.”

“What are you talking about?”  Gesull questioned, alarmed.  “We barely got away with wandering off last time.  Now you want to go back?  I can’t let you!”

Bones looked at his companion.  He could probably get away if he tried, and he doubted Gesull would tell anyone.  But that would get Gesull in trouble and he didn’t want to do that.  He couldn’t bring him, either, because he had no idea how dangerous it could be. He’d have to find another way.  “Maybe you’re right.”  He consented, turning back to the plants on the table.  “Let’s make a batch of these cures and see how it reacts to her sample.”

The testing process went more quickly than Bones had dared to hope.  In less than five hours, he had confirmed that the so-called disease was this planet’s version of the flu, which was reacting badly to the hybrid genetics.  Humans appeared to be more or less immune, but they were also immune to the medicine normally used to treat it.  He’d also tested each of the plants in turn to figure out which ones were having no effect.  Three of them had no discernable effect and one of them actually seemed to be facilitating the spread. 

Upon this discovery, he looked up, alarmed.  “Has she been given this medicine before?”

“No.”

“What is this plant?” 

“It’s a chorra leaf.” Gesull supplied.  “It’s not actually part of the medicine.  It’s only added to make it taste better.  We sometimes use it to spice our food and drinks.”

“Well, stop.”  Bones spluttered.  He wondered if the mother was ill as well. It would make sense with the timing that she stopped being seen around the palace.  He took a sample from himself and injected it with the virus, which had no effect.  He added a sample of the chorra leaf.  The effect was instantaneous.  The virus converted all the cells, but having nothing left to feed off of, died.  The whole sample was dead.  And, chances were, the mother was dead, too.  Bones briefly wondered if he’d been infected by the food Gesull so diligently brought him every five hours.  Probably not or he’d be dead already.  The daughter, it seemed, was saved from this fate by her Bloringdian genes.   The balance was enough to keep her in a constant state of illness, but not enough to kill her.   “The chorra leaf is what’s making her stay sick.”

“That is disturbing news.”  Gesull declared as he took notes on this and scurried from the room.  He was undoubtedly on his way to inform the emperor (or maybe the chef) immediately.  Bones thought now was his chance, but he couldn’t leave when he was so close to a cure.  He doubted simply removing the chorra leaf from her diet at this point would make her healthy again. 

So, he stayed and ran another test.  He took out the unnecessary ingredients and the chorra leaf and left the other five plants.  Mixing up the batch, he tested it on another sample.  There were no immediate results, but that didn’t mean there wouldn’t be any. 

Bones pulled out a voice recorder and left a message for Gesull apologizing for leaving and outlining several ways in which his medical technologies could be vastly improved.  It was really too much of a shame to leave these people in a state where their health was so poorly cared for.  It wasn’t much, but he could take solace in the fact that he was pointing them in the right direction.  He discretely stuffed the device under some gear when Gesull entered. 

Checking on his experiment, Bones noted that there was significant change.  He couldn’t be sure that it would be enough, but there was a good chance he’d found the answer.   “Hey, Gesull,” he said, “Where are we?”

Gesull looked at him incredulously. “We’re in Emperor Ninyal’s palace.”

“I know that.” Bones grumbled.  He walked over to the window and tapped at the glass.  The sun was high in the sky and green grass was growing a few floors below the window.  It didn’t make sense, but he still had to ask, “Are we underground?”

Gesull smiled at him, as a teacher might smile at a quick pupil.  “Why would you think that?”

Bones shrugged.  “This whole place just seems… fake.”

            Gesull joined him by the window.  “That’s because it is fake.”  The Bloringdian pressed a button and the window flickered and went out.  Behind the glass was only a brick wall. “We’re actually under water.  It’s more durable and less dangerous to not use windows.  There’s just one observation room where you can see the whole of the ocean.  These windows are here to make it feel less like a cave.”

            “Why would they build the palace underwater?”

            Gesull lifted his hands and spread his fingers so the webbing was clearly visible.  “Bloringdians love water.  We get all the protection of the palace but easy access to the water.   There’s an access point down by the shield generator. Plus, it’s a bit of a layover from the days before Emperor Bloringdia.  It’s good for hiding things.”

            “I figured when I saw you that Bloringdians are well adapted for water… but it’s so dry in here.” Bones shrugged and checked into the microscope again to see the results.  The sample was complete free of the virus.  No ill effects were visible and the tricorder seemed to think the sample was again in perfect health. So he could estimate the dosage by using the proportionate amount of medicine to sample as medicine to mass of the girl.  He ran some numbers through the tricorder.

            “It’s a major part of our lives.” Gesull continued, oblivious. Bones noted that he was filling the sink up with water. “We generally swim daily, though I’ve been abstaining in order to assist you.  Besides the obvious access to the ocean, we also have pools on every level of the palace.  We compete for who can swim the farthest down and who can swim the longest, things like that.”

            The results looked good.  He should be able to brew up a batch specifically made for the girl in just a few minutes.  “What about breathing? I know you don’t have gills of any sort…”

            “We can hold our breath for a very long time.”  Gesull stated proudly.   “For longer races, we also bring a re-breather.”  He tossed something at Bones, and he put it on.  It looked similar to one of the old face masks for surgeons but was made of an entirely different material.  It also clung to his face, and he found he couldn’t breathe at all.  Gesull tugged him over to the sink and pushed his face into the filling tub.   It was uncomfortably cold but oxygen was filling his lungs.  It reminded him that for all the apparent lack of medical technology, their technology wasn’t all that simple in general. 

            Bones stood up and pulled off the mask, letting it hang around his neck.  Gesull handed him a towel, and he toweled off his face.  One more scan with the tricorder showed that the sample was still in a healthy condition and that the cure he’d developed had worked. He packaged up the exact dose she would need and labeled it.  Not that it would help much.  He was pretty sure Gesull couldn’t read his writing.  Perhaps more for his doctor’s handwriting than for the language difference.

Now he just had to get Gesull out of the room again so he could make his escape.  He fetched himself a glass of water and took a long sip before sitting back in front of his papers to pretend to work.  He pulled one of his old notepapers up and proceeded to ‘accidentally’ spill his water all over it.  “Dammit!”  He growled.  “I got the paper all wet.  Could you fetch me some more?”

Gesull appeared by his side with a towel, wiping down the paper.  “There’s no need.  Our paper’s waterproof.”

‘You’ve gotta be kidding me.’ Bones mentally groaned.  Now he had to think of a new way to get rid of the Bloringdian.  He sent him to the other side of the room to mix up a new batch of the medicine and started to sketch out what he knew of the palace.  He wasn’t sure what level he was on, but he was sure it was below water.  He drew the pathways to the fake dead-end, and then tried to recall exactly which stones Gesull had pushed to allow him to enter.  He drew his best rendition next to his other picture. Then he quickly sketched out the shield generator and the door to the dungeons.  He wasn’t a great artist, but the map was understandable.  He put an X behind the generator to mark what Gesull claimed was a door to the water.  Then he sketched out the directions over to the emperor’s daughter’s room.  On his way there, he’d seen a stairwell and thought it should lead to the upper levels where he’d hopefully be able to make his escape. 

After he got Spock. 

Folding the paper, he shoved it into a pocket as Gesull approached with the new mixture.  He glanced behind him to see that one of the roots was almost used.  He had an idea.  “Oh.”

“What?”  Gesull took the bait.

“Well, I’m going to need quite a bit more than that.”

“But the manjeek root is almost used.” Gesull protested.

“You’ll have to get more, then.  I can manage these tests on my own with this, for now.” 

Gesull nodded slowly,  “If you’re sure.”

“We don’t exactly have all the time in the world, you know!”  Bones exclaimed, raising his voice though he didn’t actually feel annoyed or angry.  “Let’s not waste time.”

“Right.”  Gesull agreed.  “I’ll grab some more priosa grass while I’m at it.  I’ll be back as soon as I can.”  He promised and swept from the room.

Bones thought he’d probably miss the enthusiasm oozing out of him and sincerely hoped that the emperor would not punish him badly for letting Bones get away.  He hoped the cure would appease him.  Mostly, he hoped he could get away.  “Sorry to mislead you.  I’ve left the cure out for you.” He spoke into the recording device.  “It’s in the proper dosage.  Just put it on some bread and feed it to her.  It’ll taste nasty, but it should do the trick.”  He shut it off, then turned it back on briefly.  “Good luck.”

He hesitated before taking the tricorder, but decided that he might need it more than Gesull and he knew how to use it properly.  He looked at the map in his pocket one more time before slipping from the room.  He felt vaguely sure that if he could get down to the lower level, he would not be questioned as they had had no difficulties there this morning.  He ran across three Unferun wandering busily who said nothing to him.  When he saw a pair of Unferun guards approach, he slid into a side hall and pressed into the shadows.  He held his breath until they had passed.

Finally, he reached the dead end and glanced around for witnesses.  There were none.  He pressed several combinations of rocks before he hit the right pattern. (Apparently, all three had to be pressed at the same time, which was easy for someone with very long fingers, but Bones had to use his nose).  The door slid open.  

There were perhaps two dozen Bloringdians wandering this main chamber and although they looked at him in surprise, no one said or did anything.  He thought there must be another exit upwards somewhere, for this was a busy area.  He scanned the room and spotted a second staircase opposite the one he came in.  He also spotted the entrance to the water that Gesull had spoken of. 

Growing increasingly nervous of his presence here, Bones discretely made his way to the dungeons.  It was a more secluded area and he was able to pass through the door with no notice.  Down the stairs he went until he’d found a row of cells.  He knew without thinking that Spock was in the one three stalls over to the left.  He also knew that Spock knew he was present. The guard at the bottom of the stairs also seemed to be aware of his presence and this was not nearly as pleasing.  He had strangely not thought to bring a weapon and although he was fairly confident that this Unferun would not intentionally hurt him, he was also as confident that he could and would subdue him and send him back to Ninyal.  He had to think fast. 

‘Bring him towards me.’ Spock instructed inside his mind.   Bones attempted to appear casual as he strolled down the stairs, thinking of how he was going to get out of this mess.

“What are you doing down here?” The guard looked more surprised than angry.  “This location is off limits.” He added. 

“Oh, is it?”  Bones turned as if to go back the way he came.  “I’ll just – Say, you don’t look so well.”

“What? I feel fine.”

“Oh, yeah.  You look like you’ve caught the ghoravad. Don’t feel a thing and then, boom! You’re dead.  Don’t worry, though, I’m a Healer.  I can help you.”  Bones pulled out his tricorder and flipped it open.  He made a few humming noises. “Well, that’s not good.”

The guard looked particularly alarmed.  “What’s not good?”

“Well, it’s just that… no, that can’t be right.” Bones peeled his eyes off the tricorder and looked at the guard’s neck closely.  “Could you step back a bit?  The lighting over here is terrible. Nope, a bit more.  One more step.”

Bones pretended to go back to his tricorder instead of watching a long arm in a blue sleeve reach out and grab the guard’s shoulder.  He lurched forward on instinct and grabbed the guard before he could hit the floor.  He lowered him down and automatically checked for a pulse.  Slow and steady.

He looked up at the man in the cell and didn’t feel much of anything.  He recognized him from his dreams and from that one memory.  He didn’t feel fear for the creature who could knock a man out with a simple touch, but nor did he feel pleasure at seeing him again.   Bones suddenly felt empty.

Spock looked him up and down.  “I trust you are in good health, Doctor?”

“I’m fine.” He stated brusquely.  “Now, you mind telling me what the hell is going on?”

“This might be more expedient if you unlock the cage.”  Spock suggested, lowering his eyes to the keys at the guard’s belt.  Bones was a moment torn.  Once he let Spock out, he was sure there would be no chance of going back.  For better or for worse, they were stuck together.  He grabbed the keys and thrust them in the lock.  He didn’t come all this way to leave without answers.  Spock, he somehow knew, was real in this world of fake.

“Thank you, Doctor.”  Spock responded to the opening of the door.  He did not comment on Bones’ hesitance. “And with your permission, I would like to remove the seal on your memories.”

Bones nodded, mutely. He flinched as Spock brought his hand up to his face, but the touch was gentle.  A few seconds later, Bones felt like he’d been flushed down the toilet and that the whole world was upside down.

 

.o0o.


	18. Chapter 18

.o0o.

Part 18

.o0o.

As McCoy pitched forward, Spock briefly wondered if the doctor might pass out.  He ended up holding McCoy up while the doctor planted his face in his chest.  While it had only been logical to unseal McCoy’s memories immediately to regain his trust, it would be most unfortunate if the other man were to lose consciousness. On the other hand, McCoy might not be terribly useful conscious, either. He’d never sealed memories from anyone before, but if the studies he’d read on the topic were correct, McCoy’s memories would resurface irregularly and unpredictably until his mind had time to process them all.  Spock was unsure how long this would take, but estimated that it should take several days.  It would be swifter, and perhaps safer, if McCoy were allowed to rest during this period; however, time was not an asset they had at the moment.  They needed to leave quickly before McCoy’s absence was noticed.

Spock slid into McCoy’s mind easily with the contact between them. He stayed toward the edges, a passive observer, in order to monitor the doctor’s mind.   McCoy seemed to be regaining his sense of self and straightened.   He looked at Spock, and Spock saw the memory with him.

_As far as first meetings went, this one ranked pretty low.  McCoy had arrived a day earlier than expected through a system transfer error and had been separated from all of his belongings due to this same error.  Thus, for the next twenty-four hours, he only had the shirt on his back and twenty credits.  Enough money for some booze, but not enough for a hotel._

_McCoy, of course, bought some whiskey and called up Jim, who didn’t answer his comm. Grumbling to himself about the stupidity of certain Starfleet Captains, McCoy made his way over to the docking station and resigned himself to not getting a shuttle up.  It was the transporter for him.  He shuddered._

_Luck was finally on his side when he reached the transporter bay; the operator on duty recognized him immediately.  “Doctor McCoy!  It’s great to see you,” the ensign greeted enthusiastically._

_“Rinkten. It’s been a while.  How is your sister?”_

_“Not running marathons anymore, but walking.  Thanks to you.”_

_McCoy gave a half-smile.  Rinkten’s sister had been injured in an accident and nearly severed her spinal cord.  McCoy acknowledged that he’d probably done a better job than most of the staff at the clinic would have been able to, but not good enough.  Last he’d heard, she’d left the Academy. “Just doing my job.”_

_“What brings you to this part of town?”_

_“Got a transfer up to the Enterprise.  I’ll be the new CMO.”_

_“That’s fantastic.” Rinkten praised, genuinely pleased. He added wistfully, “What I wouldn’t give to get a post aboard her.”_

_McCoy laughed, tightly. “Want to trade places?  I wouldn’t mind to keep my feet on solid ground. Plus, you get to visit your family damn near every month.”_

_Rinkten wrinkled his nose.  “Yes, sir.”_

_The doctor shrugged.  “Worth a shot, I suppose. Don’t worry, kid.  You’ll do something amazing.”_

_Rinkten seemed pleased by his assurances and offered to beam him aboard._

_“Oh yes.  Please scatter my atoms.”  McCoy found himself in the transporter room immediately.  No one was there.  Most of the crew was on shore leave at the station which left the hallways bare.  This was most fortunate as McCoy only vaguely knew where he was going.  His sudden turnabouts would have been much more embarrassing with witnesses._

_Finally, McCoy recognized the officer’s deck and found the captain’s quarters.  He buzzed for entry.  Silence.  McCoy scrutinized the keypad.  He didn’t know what the combination was, but he knew Jim Kirk pretty well and had a couple good guesses.  After his third failed attempt, he was interrupted._

_“Desist immediately.”_

_McCoy turned to face the newcomer.  Dressed in science blues, he instantly recognized the Vulcan features.  “You must be Spock.”  He did not extend his hand, for Vulcans did not like to shake hands._

_Spock raised an eyebrow.  “Indeed.  And who are you?”_

_“Leonard McCoy. Just transferred.”_

_Spock’s face was neutral.  McCoy didn’t like not being able to read him at all.  “Doctor McCoy is not due to arrive until tomorrow.”_

_“Yeah, well, I came early.” McCoy huffed, folding his arms over his chest._

_“You will understand my reticence in accepting such an explanation from a man attempting to break into the captain’s quarters.  Please produce identification.”_

_“What?” McCoy stuttered.  “I was not trying to break in!  And I can’t show you my papers because I don’t have them!”_

_“Very well.”  Spock responded coolly. He stepped over to the comm panel on the wall and pressed a button, keeping his eyes on the intruder.  “Security to the captain’s quarters.”_

_“Now wait just a cotton pickin’ minute!” McCoy grumbled.  “If you’d just call the captain, he’ll verify it for me.”_

_“The captain is currently unavailable.  As acting captain, I will use the computers to verify your identity.  In the meantime, I would be remiss in my duties if I were not to place you in the brig.”_

_“The brig?”  McCoy’s eyebrows flew up.  His first day on the Enterprise was turning into complete crap.  And he certainly didn’t like Jim’s prized First Officer.  “Isn’t that a little extreme?  Whatever happened to three strikes?”_

_“As acting captain, it is my prerogative to place suspicious persons in the brig.  I am uncertain of your reference to strikes.  However, if I am correct in my assumption that you are referring to the number of your transgressions, allow me to elucidate.  Your first offense was boarding the ship without permission of the captain, or acting captain in this case.  Your second offense was attempting to override the security code on the captain’s quarters.  Your third offense was your inability to produce your papers at the request of a commanding officer.  You will note that I am not including the minor offenses of avoiding the proper formality when addressing a superior, reporting for duty out of uniform and, of course, the alcohol.”_

_McCoy opened his mouth and snapped it shut.   He was pretty sure that anything he said at this point would only get him into bigger trouble.  And despite common misconception, he did know when to back down.  Sometimes.  He simply allowed himself to be escorted to the brig._

_When Kirk arrived half an hour later, he looked like he’d spent the better part of that half an hour busting a gut from laughter.  His mouth was twitching in an attempt to avoid smiling.  “Bones.”  He finally said._

_“This is not funny, Jim.”  McCoy growled.  “And I don’t like your First Officer.”_

_Kirk couldn’t help but laugh at that.  He opened the brig. “Drinks in my cabin?  I’ll supply the drinks.” He held up the whiskey Spock had thoughtfully taken away earlier._

_McCoy stood and followed him out.  “I don’t suppose I’ll get an apology out of him.”_

_Kirk seemed to find this even funnier._

McCoy’s slurred words almost sounded drunken to Spock’s ears as he murmured, “I remember you.” His tone of voice was also, strangely, impolite.

Spock decided that this was probably a bad sign.  He thought back to the studies he’d read and recalled that there was no documentation on sealing and unsealing memories in the human mind.  There was a 33% chance that he’d been the first Vulcan to attempt such a feat, and a 71% chance that it was the first successful attempt.  There was very little occasion to tamper with another person’s memories and even less acceptance of such behavior.  However, he had no doubt that his choice had been both logical and beneficial to McCoy and himself. 

Perhaps if he monitored the situation carefully, the doctor would be amenable to him submitting a report on the subject at a future time. 

“Indeed.” If he recalled correctly, the proper procedure for human amnesiacs was to let them recover the memories on their own.  This was the closest parallel he could draw.  Would the benefits of McCoy’s memories outweigh the risk of causing harm?  “We are… friends.”

“Friends….”  McCoy mumbled.  A new memory appeared.

_Spock was trapped under a boulder, shouting for them to leave.  “Lift off! Go back!” He argued, even as McCoy and the Lieutenant turned back.  “No!”  He shouted one more time before they reached him and worked the boulder off of him._

_Soon, all three of them were inside the shuttlecraft panting from exertion.  “Go, Scott!”  Spock ordered._

_“Aye, aye, sir.”  Scotty replied, fumbling with the buttons.  The craft jerked and thudded, but they did not leave the ground._

_“I told you to lift off.” Spock stated._

_“Don’t be a fool, Mr. Spock.  We couldn’t leave you out there.”_

_Spock ignored McCoy in favor of prompting Scotty again.  “We should be moving, but we’re not.”  Scott responded.  McCoy held his breath and watched the scene unfold._

_Spock analyzed the situation quickly.  “Quite right, Mr. Scott.  There’s somebody holding us down.  All systems are go, but we’re not moving.” He didn’t hesitate to reach out and throw a switch._

_“What are you doing?”  Scott shouted._

_“Our boosters.”_

_“We’ll never be able to hold orbit.”_

_“Would you rather stay here?”_

_McCoy choked back a laugh born of desperation and heard voices from behind him.  “We’re moving!”_

_“They let go!”_

_“We got off!”  He added, gratefully, finally letting go of his breath._

_Spock decided to add in his killjoy fashion.  “May I remind you we have yet to achieve orbit, nor can we maintain it long.  An hour from now, we may be right back where we started from.”  He waited a beat before driving his point forward.  “Gentlemen, by coming after me, you may well have destroyed what slim chance you had for survival.  The logical thing for you to have done was to have left me behind.”_

_McCoy rolled his eyes.  “Mr.  Spock, remind me to tell you that I’m sick and tired of your logic.”_

_“That is a most illogical attitude.” Why was Spock only this funny when they were about to die?  “Orbit in one minute, Mr. Scott.  Fuel status?”_

_“Fifteen pounds psi.  Approximately enough for one orbit, sir.”_

_McCoy felt his stomach drop.  “And after that?”_

_“Tapping our boosters ended our last chance for a soft landing.”_

_“You mean burn-up?”_

_“It is the usual end of a decaying orbit.” Spock stated too calmly before Scotty could say anything._

_McCoy heard Mears’ voice float up, echoing his sentiments.  “I don’t want to die up here.”_

_“Infinitely preferable to the kind of death we’d be granted on the planet’s surface, I should think.”_

_Boma cut in before McCoy could comment on Spock’s perverse optimism.  “I admire your ability to make so measured a choice.”_

_There was a moment of choked silence before Scotty reached out for hope.  Reached out for Spock because he always had the answers.  “Mr. Spock, you said a while ago that there were always alternatives.”_

_“Did I?” Spock sounded burnt out.  “I may have been mistaken.”_

_McCoy offered the comfort of normality, at least what was normal for them.  “Well, at least I lived long enough to hear that.  Is there anything we can do?”_

_“The Enterprise is surely on course for Makus Three by now.  I, for one, do not believe in angels.”_

_“Well, Mr. Spock, so ends your first command.” McCoy commented._

_“Yes. My first command.”  Spock seemed to come to some sort of conclusion from this comment and sat up a little straighter.  McCoy vaguely heard Scotty say something about forty-five minutes, but he was watching Spock intently as he attempted to contact the Enterprise.  “Galileo to Enterprise.  Galileo to Enterprise, come in, please.”  Receiving no response, Spock jettisoned the fuel._

_The shuttle is a flurry of action and heated words, but surprisingly, McCoy is on Spock’s side on this one.  In a moment of complete faith, he accepts Spock’s decision and sits back to wait.  It isn’t until Scotty starts talking about a flare that he realized why Spock did what he did.  He can’t help but lean forward and profess in half admiration and half bewilderment, “It may be the last action you’ll ever take, Mr. Spock, and it was entirely human.”_

_“Totally illogical.  There was no chance.”_

_“That’s exactly what I mean.” And for that brief moment, McCoy is sure that they understand each other perfectly._

            Spock knew the events that McCoy had just been remembering well.  However, seeing them from the perspective of Doctor McCoy was an entirely different experience.  He saw things differently, for sure, but he also thought about them differently. Hearing the echo of his thoughts and feelings was not an unpleasant experience.  Indeed, he wished to continue.

            Shaking his head minimally, Spock cleared his thoughts.  It was important that they be swift.  “Come, Doctor, we must depart.”

            “No.”  McCoy said firmly.  “Something’s wrong with these memories.  I can’t _feel_ anything.”

            “That is because I also sealed your emotions in an attempt to preserve them.” Spock stated honestly.

            “Fix it.”  McCoy demanded.

“Perhaps it would be better if we waited.” Spock suggested, logically.  “Without emotions interfering, you will be better capable of making sound decisions that will assist in our escape.”

“No.”  McCoy resisted Spock’s attempts to get him to move.  “I don’t feel right at all. I haven’t felt right. I feel like someone has hollowed out my insides, and I’m just a walking suit of skin. You can make logical decisions.  I need my emotions.”

“Very well.”  Spock caved because McCoy wasn’t going to budge.  He’d held a brief interest in seeing McCoy grounded in logic, but that would not be McCoy.  He was already partly in the doctor’s mind, so the task was a simple one.  He traced the chain back to the room of emotions and destroyed the seal.   He’d half expected to be flooded with anger, but the primary emotion was actually relief.  He pulled back into the physical world.

“Thank you.”  McCoy said genuinely, though he wouldn’t meet his eyes.  Spock felt the flush of gratitude over the link.

The Vulcan nodded.  “We should leave.”  He thought McCoy might offer some form of resistance, but the doctor was quick to head toward the stairs.  It appeared as though the memories alone were not enough to get the doctor to trust him but the emotions tethered to them were.

“So, tell me what’s going on.”

“I believe we have already discussed this.”

“I know.” McCoy protested.  “Cut me some slack, my brain’s been scrambled.”

Spock turned toward him at the top of the stairs. “Emperor Ninyal attempted to erase your memories in order to use your medical knowledge without your ethical dilemmas.  I linked our minds to prevent this.  We are now attempting to escape.  I suggest you concentrate on that.”  Spock opened the door and scanned the room, even as he felt another memory slip over McCoy. It was strangely his own.

_"There are several types of links that can be formed between telepaths. Friendship links are not uncommon and rank as the lowest strength and intensity. Then there are links of partnerships and marriage links. Marriage links vary in intensity and are the only links that, when perfected, cannot be severed by anything short of death. This is why it is so important that your marriage partner be selected carefully."_

“So, when you say linked, you mean, like, a friendship link.  Right?”

Spock ignored him.  “It appears that both stairwells leading upwards are currently occupied by guards. Several more appear to be descending the stairs. It is not unlikely that they are searching for you.” McCoy peaked out from around Spock’s shoulder and swore colorfully. McCoy either didn’t notice that Spock was aware of McCoy’s escape route without being told or had chosen not to comment on the issue.  Spock, in turn, chose not to comment that if McCoy had allowed them to leave more promptly, they wouldn’t be in this situation.  “I believe your absence has been detected.  Do you know of another way out?”

“There’s supposed to be water route.  I can show you.”

_Fourteen year old Ben had a swimmer’s build.  At least, that’s the excuse McCoy gave himself for losing to him.  Ben reached down and gave him a hand, pulling him onto the dock.  “And you call yourself a Georgian.” Ben scoffed.  “I’ve seen better swimmers in Alaska.”_

_“Hey, it’s summer for like six months a year, there.” McCoy responded, panting slightly.  “Besides, I was only slightly behind you. Look at them.”  He pointed with his head to a gaggle of boys a ways off still. “We beat them by a mile.”_

_Ben grinned wickedly.  “Still, you need more practice.”  He pushed McCoy back into the water._

“Perhaps it would be better if you went on your own.” Spock stated.

McCoy looked at him like he’d just eaten a lamb chop.  “Are you crazy?  After I did all this to break you out?  You’re coming.” He said with finality, grabbing Spock’s wrist and tugging him along, as if he were still trapped in his memory of his boyhood days.  He dodged through the people and kept out of sight of the stairwell.

“Vulcan is a desert planet.  It is… sacrilege to swim.  Only Vulcans who are intoxicated willingly swim.”

“Drunk Vulcans?” McCoy was grinning wildly at the comment.  Spock took it calmly. 

“Intoxicated.”

“Well, I think you can make an exception.”

Spock lifted an eyebrow.  “I was unclear.  I do not know how to swim.”

McCoy stopped dead in his tracks and turned to look at Spock.

_McCoy smiled as he crawled into the pool, adjusting his goggles and stretching briefly.  For all that Starfleet kind of sucked, what with the whole operating in space thing, he could really get used to this whole swimming requirement.  A buzzer went off and McCoy pushed off the wall, slapping against the water like it’d insulted his mother.  He outswam the whole lot of them, which he viciously enjoyed as revenge for the stares he’d received for his age. Most cadets entered at 18, but he already had a medical degree, a divorce and a kid behind him by the time he joined._

_He did another lap just because he could and because he’d missed the feel of the Georgian waters.  When he finished, he pulled off his goggles and grasped the hand that appeared in front of him like magic.  It was a soft and slender hand that pulled him from the water with surprising strength.  He recognized the woman has the instructor for the class.  “Not bad.”  She complimented.  “Where’d you learn to swim?”_

_“I’m from Georgia.” McCoy responded as if it explained everything (because in his mind, it really did), surprised to find that he was slightly out of breath. Apparently, he wasn’t exercising enough. “I was on a swim team for a couple years.” He added as an afterthought._

_“I’m afraid I can’t exempt you, but I could use a good assistant.”_

_McCoy smiled.  “I’d like that.”_

Spock was a Vulcan, so he wasn’t surprised to find that McCoy enjoyed swimming more than he’d ever guessed.  He was also not offended by McCoy’s next comment.  “You’re joking.  What about the Starfleet Academy requirements?”

“As Vulcans are very rare students at Starfleet Academy, they wished to be accommodating to our culture.”

McCoy frowned.  “When we get back, you’re getting swimming lessons.”

Spock didn’t protest or agree.  “That will not solve the more immediate problem.”  They’d arrived at what appeared to be an entrance to an aquarium.  He urged them closer to the wall and crouched behind a decorative statue of Emperor Ninyal as a group of guards passed by.  They were getting closer.

“Well, I can swim, and you’re in my head, so can’t you just… borrow the knowledge?”

“It would be possible to utilize your knowledge in this manner.  However, I would have to anchor the final end of the link.”  Spock did not think it prudent to tell then doctor that once this anchor was in place, the chance of them successfully breaking the link were substantially reduced.  It was simply the logical choice to make as the guards were closing in.  Even if he were to submit himself, revealing himself now would also expose the doctor’s location.  With the cure found and the doctor clearly having recovered memories that were meant to be permanently destroyed, Spock knew the risks of recapture were markedly higher.

McCoy shifted slightly so they were facing each other, not removing the vice grip on his arm.  Spock found the touch surprisingly unremarkable, which was, in itself remarkable.  He postulated that McCoy was using the touch to ground himself in the present.  “Well, get on with it.”

“If you will recall, your assistance in this matter will enable a swifter completion.”  And McCoy did remember.

_A touch on his cheek. Speaking without sound. The beginnings of panic being quelled.  Seeing Spock and himself inside his own mind. Leading them around first to his emotions, then to his memories, and finally to his logic center.  Then, Spock in his mind while the machine raged.  Locking himself away._

“Right.”  McCoy agreed as Spock used his free hand to find the meld points.  The doctor used the same techniques to calm himself and appeared in the foyer with Spock’s own incarnation again.  Spock noted that this version was much more accurate than McCoy’s last. He also noted, as a doctor might, that the outer barriers of McCoy’s mind were in piles of rubble.  Spock thought that this might be one reason that the contact between their minds had become so much easier, even while they were apart. “This way.”  McCoy directed with confidence.

Spock nodded and followed, pulling the final anchor along with them.  “It would be advisable to hurry.”

McCoy picked up his pace, and soon they were at the final door.  The doctor pushed it open.

Inside was a chamber as massive as the cavernous maw dominated by the doctor’s memories.  This room, though, was entirely encompassed by an enormous computer that stretched as far as the eye could see.  Every inch or so was another data disk like the ones used on the Enterprise.  The brightly colored, chunky items formed meaningless patterns throughout the room.  And right across from them was an access point, complete with a viewscreen and even an old fashioned keyboard.  Spock followed the doctor to it as he tentatively asked the computer for information on swimming.  Spock was content to secure the anchor by the screen and watch the results. 

Comfortable with the data on the screen and the probability of success (high nineties), Spock prepared to usher them away, but McCoy was staring at the screen, adrift in another memory.  Spock was privy to this one as well. 

_McCoy was two, toddling after his father in the waves of the ocean.  Despite being near to the shore, he wore a life vest and gripped it in wet palms.  “I’m scared.” He admitted, voice barely carrying above the crashing waves.  His father turned and scooped him up in strong arms._

_“You have nothing to be afraid of.” His father stated with authority.  “I won’t let anything happen to you.”  He set the boy back into the shallow water.  “Now, kick!”_

And Spock was struck by feelings of sadness, loneliness, self-loathing and copious amounts of guilt as the memory transformed into another:

_“Len.  Please.  I can’t go on like this.” It was the same man, but he was older and frail lying in that hospital bed.  His voice was a strangled whisper punctuated by coughing fits and he stumbled through his words._

_“Dad, please.  Hang on.  I’m so close. Just a little longer, and we’ll find a cure.”_

_“I’ve made my peace.  Let me go.”_

_There was a moment of heavy silence and when McCoy finally spoke, his voice was rougher than the dying tones of his father.  “Okay.” He reached out._

McCoy seemed to jerk out of his memory and his internal vision at the same time, meeting Spock’s eyes briefly before turning away.  If he suspected that Spock had seen the memory as well, he didn’t say as much.  Perhaps he had no idea.   Perhaps he just did not wish to acknowledge it.  “Are we good?”  McCoy said evenly.  Spock wondered what other miseries the private man kept to himself and when his wish to monitor McCoy for his own safety had been layered with a driving curiosity.

“I believe so.” Spock pushed McCoy further into the corner, crouching lower as another pair of guards swept by.  

McCoy gave a half-hearted glare and straightened.  He looked around before calling one of the Bloringdians over. The bald man came over and crouched down with them.  “I’ve been looking for you.”  He said.

“Yes, well, so are they.”  McCoy gestured over to the guards.

“You are fortunate that I told them that you were inquiring about the upper levels.  Most of the guards are searching up there.”

 “Thank you, Gesull.”  McCoy let out a breath, then he pointed to the mask still wrapped around his neck. “You don’t happen to have another one of these, do you?”  Gesull pulled one from the vast pockets that accompanied Bloringdian pants and handed it over.  McCoy took it and passed it to Spock.  Spock knew without asking that this would allow him to breathe under water.  “Come with us,” McCoy offered spontaneously.  “If you stay here, Ninyal will surely erase your memories.”

Gesull shook his head.  “There are guards everywhere.  You will need a distraction.”

“You can’t.”  Spock felt a flood of affection wash over him, coupled with real fear as the doctor processed what Gesull was planning. 

“My people have become mindless drones.  I must save them, or die trying.”  Gesull took off before McCoy could say another word.  Spock grabbed him from behind when the doctor prepared to follow. 

‘Do not let his sacrifice be in vain.’ Spock encouraged inside his mind.  ‘Honor him by escaping.’

Gesull was quick in whatever task he had in mind and in less than two minutes, there was a large explosion across the hall.  Guards ran toward the noise while other Bloringdians fled the area, leaving an empty route to the water.  Spock and McCoy rose simultaneously and dashed into the airlock.  They closed the door behind them and immediately, water began to fill the compartment. 

McCoy peeled off his boots and took off his shirt, throwing them to the side.  “It’ll be easier to swim.” He argued.

Spock, with a little hesitance at the chill of the water, did the same.  Spock looked behind them at the glass door.  If anyone were to look their way, they would be caught.  Even if they made it out into the open water, the Bloringdian’s superior adaptation to swimming would likely result in their quick capture.  He glanced over to McCoy who had the mask over his face, holding it away from his mouth.  Spock followed suit. 

“I suggest we swim forward instead of upwards.” 

McCoy gave him a funny look.  “Why’s that?”

“Ninyal will eventually conclude that we have escaped using this route and post guards at the water’s surface.  It is the most logical route to take; therefore, we must not take it.”

_Kirk’s words echoed in McCoy’s mind, seeping over to Spock’s end of the link easily. “So you reasoned that it was time for an emotional outburst.”_

“Slight problem.  We do need to get to the surface.  Even if these re-breathers last indefinitely, we’ll wear ourselves out soon enough.”

“Indeed.  Once we have gone a significant distance, we may then move toward the surface.”

McCoy nodded, letting his mask snap shut as the water reached his face, and ducking under. Finally, the outer doors opened and they walked slowly through the water toward the edge of the dock.  Spock noted that the water pressure was well within tolerable levels.  He took the tricorder from McCoy’s grasp and opened it, appreciative of the logical design that made the device water-proof.  He scanned the area and pointed out the best direction, slipping the tricorder’s strap over his own shoulder.  ‘If we head in this direction, we should be able to move out of Ninyal’s territory while staying in the vicinity of land.’

McCoy nodded. ‘You ready?’

Spock raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment.  With the link open and tendrils of his own mind carefully resting on McCoy’s swimming knowledge, his own strokes were as swift, steady, and perfected as the doctor’s.   Although he registered the cultural stigma of his actions, he did not find the experience entirely unpleasant.  His own mother had commented on more than one occasion that she thought the lack of swimming pools was the worst part of living on Vulcan.  The heat was oppressive enough without a place to cool down, she argued.  Spock kindly did not comment that the rare pools of water left in the sun would undoubtedly be unpleasantly warm.

They swam quickly and in silence for ten minutes before Spock felt McCoy beginning to tire.  Considering the distance from the palace, he felt it safe enough to slow the pace.  And knowing that humans were able to endure more physical stress when engaged in light conversation, he also attempted to indulge this.  ‘I would be interested to hear about the exact nature of the disease Ninyal’s daughter was troubled by and why we were unsuccessful in resolving it.’

McCoy took the bait immediately, jumping into an explanation of how her hybrid physiology was at the root of both her sickness and her survival.  Spock heard his thoughts trail off and moved closer mentally to watch the next memory.  It was purely out of scientific curiosity and a concern for the well-being of the Chief Medical Officer, however.

_“I hear you’ve got yourself a Vulcan for a First Officer.” McCoy said it with nonchalance, but there was a driving curiosity beneath his words._

_Jim Kirk gave a boyish grin on the viewscreen.  The call had been to informally request McCoy aboard his ship before the paperwork went through.  For all his dilly-dallying with the answer, they both knew McCoy would say yes.  “Well, since you’re going to be his doctor, you should probably know that he’s only half-Vulcan.” Kirk was working hard to bring intrigue into his offer, and he was doing a fine job._

_“Half-Vulcan? Half-human, I suppose?”_

_Kirk turned to move another piece on the chess board for the game he was playing with the computer.  “Mmhmm.”_

_McCoy was more or less ignoring the other man, now, already researching on his PADD.  “Oh wow.  That’s…. rare.   I wonder where his heart is located.  Does he have an amalgamation of human and Vulcan traits or is one dominant over the other?  I suppose the Vulcan traits are likely more dominant, at least outwardly, for everyone to assume he’s Vulcan.  But is the same true of his internal organs?”_

_“Bones.”_

_“Hmm?”_

_“Stop geeking out on me.  Next you’ll be asking to dissect him.”_

_McCoy snorted and set aside his PADD.  “Jim, need I remind you that you’re playing chess?  And of course I wouldn’t ask to dissect him.  He’s a person, not a science project.  I just want to be ready to take care of him.”_

_“So, you’re accepting the position?”_

_“Of course I am.  Can’t trust just anyone to patch your unlucky hide back together.”_

_Kirk took it with good humor and a chuckle.  “Great.”  There was a chime on the other end.  “Gotta run.  Oh, and Bones?  Spock was raised on Vulcan, so it’s really best if you treat him like a Vulcan and not, you know, try to get a rise out of him.”_

_“You know me.”_

_“That’s what I’m afraid of.”_

Things were going swimmingly, as McCoy likely would have commented in one of his dreadful human puns.  The doctor was becoming a bit tired, but Spock knew he could push himself much further if the need arose.  Spock himself found swimming to be a whole-body exhaustive effort.  Overall, he estimated that they would soon be able to move toward the surface with a 79% chance of not being caught.  He’d checked repeatedly with his tricorder, but the path behind them showed no traces of pursuers. Of course, escape rarely went as smoothly as this.

‘It is interesting to note that the Bloringdian culture was able to develop so successfully in a nonviolent manner without repression of emotions.’ 

‘What do you mean nonviolent?  They’re killing people in there as surely as if they were using a phaser.’ McCoy replied viciously, then dropped into another memory.

_Another time, another place, another set of deranged, power-hungry people messing with other people’s minds.  Spock used the opportunity to promote the wisdom of following a logical path.  “Interesting.  Your Earth people glorify organized violence for forty centuries, but you imprison those who employ it privately.”_

_McCoy snorted.  “And, of course, your people found an answer.”_

_“We disposed of emotion, Doctor.  Where there is no emotion, there is no motive for violence.”_

            Spock turned to face the doctor who had stopped and was treading water while the memory arose.  ‘I do not find this situation comparable to that of Tantalus, Doctor.’

            ‘Of course it is.’ McCoy bit back.  He paused and turned angrily toward Spock, forgetting the situation for a moment as he tried to speak with his mouth first, only to find the sound incomprehensible.  ‘You saw that.’

            ‘It is necessary to remain partly in your mind while I am using your knowledge.’  Spock stated, attempting to mislead without actually lying.  It was certainly possible for him to block out the doctor’s memories, even in his current situation. 

            But McCoy reacted in an unexpected way.  Instead of growing anger or furious words, he felt a deep panic overwhelm the doctor.  It was more firmly rooted and sinister than the ruffled panic that had overtaken McCoy when Spock first began the linking process.  This was something else entirely.   McCoy was suddenly breathing erratically, attempting to tear off the mask that covered his mouth and kicking and struggling from some unseen demon.  Spock grabbed his hands and held them firmly, knowing McCoy would drown if he were to remove the mask in his panicked state.

            The skin contact strengthened Spock’s presence in the doctor’s mind and he immediately recognized the source of the colossal fear, outrage and terror.  Something they’d said or done had shattered the lock on the box in McCoy’s memory room and that repressed memory was reemerging.  He only caught a glimpse of it

            _… ropes cutting into flesh on the wrists, a deceptively warm hand on his face…. sharp, piercing, ripping, tearing…. breaking… and screaming..._

                before McCoy had forcefully thrown Spock out of his mind with a surprising strength and the element of surprise.  Spock was finding it difficult to breathe around the nausea as he identified what he’d seen.  A forced mind meld.  A destructive and _forced_ meld. 

                Spock realized two things quickly. First, McCoy was no longer struggling against him but was passed out in his arms.  Secondly, Spock was in the middle of the ocean and didn’t know how to swim.  This time, the panic he felt was his own.

.o0o.


	19. Chapter 19

.o0o.

Part 19

 

.o0o.

Kirk’s week had gone from slightly annoying with a healthy dose of boring to Batman being forced to choose between his girlfriend and Robin kinda bad.  He hadn’t slept more than few hours at a time since his friends went missing, but until Spock was there to tell him how illogical that was, he couldn’t help it.  As a result, he was grouchier and more pissed off than when the people of Eminiar Seven decided that they had to kill themselves as casualties of a virtual war.  Who does that?

To make matters worse, the brass wouldn’t accept his gut feelings of Ninyal’s culpability without hard evidence, at least not when valuable fuel supplies were on the line.  So help him, if Spock and Bones turned into casualties of a treaty over mining rights, Kirk was so quitting.  He frowned.  His friends were not dead; he’d _know_ if they were.  Foregoing any hope of getting any more sleep, Kirk decided to shower and change as he thought about the situation. 

They’d made a great deal of progress with Yoramyn, who seemed eager to help them.  He provided a guided tour of the palace, allowing Kirk to inspect every room, but reported that his palace was not of comparable design to Ninyal’s as his was built hundreds of years later, after the peace of Emperor Bloringdia.  He did allow Scotty to inspect the shield generator at length, on the condition that he not touch anything.  Scotty had returned two days later, exhausted, but enthusiastic about the design.   He explained that it not only muddled signals in their scans, but disabled most of their technology under the shield.  Thus, their phasers never would have worked. 

Ninyal, on the other hand, had refused to show them to the shield generator, and Kirk had a nagging feeling that that was where he was keeping Bones and Spock. However, team after team that was sent to search the palace turned up nothing out of the ordinary.  Ninyal was sticking to the story that he hadn’t seen either of them, and Kirk had his hands tied diplomatically.

Kirk finished dressing and punched the intercom with more force than necessary.  “Scotty, I’m going back down.”

“Are you sure that’s such a great idea, sir?” Scotty inquired with some hesitance.  Kirk couldn’t blame him.  He’d been chewing out pretty much everyone who had dared to speak to him in the last 48 hours. 

Still, Kirk couldn’t help but bark. “Are you questioning my command decisions, Mr. Scott?”

“No, sir.”

“Then-”

“Captain!”  Chekov’s excited voice came over the intercom in a surprised shout.  “I’ve got them!”

All tiredness drained from Kirk’s body, and he snapped to attention.  “Where?”

“They’re in the water outside Ninyal’s palace. They don’t seem to be moving.” Chekov continued, “Shall I beam them up?”

“Immediately.  And get a medical team to the transporter room, stat.” Kirk ordered, racing from his room at a full run.  Not moving was a very bad sign, particularly when they were in the water. 

He arrived in the transporter room in time to see his two best friends materialize on the platform, shirtless and accompanied by a pool of water.  Spock was sitting up while attempting to pry a mask off of his face.  Bones was eerily still.  Kirk hurried over to Bones, kneeling beside his friend and checking his pulse while Spock carefully removed the mask covering the doctor’s face. 

“Did he… is he…”  Kirk couldn’t find the right words, but was comforted by the steady pulse beneath his fingers. Spock wasn’t suggesting or attempting CPR so it seemed unlikely that he’d swallowed too much water.  That didn’t explain why Bones was out like a light.

“He is merely unconscious.”  Spock comforted as M’Benga and Chapel carted their boss away on a stretcher. 

Kirk followed them with his eyes before turning to Spock and inspecting him.  Besides being wet and breathing heavily, he appeared to be in perfect physical condition.  His eyes said there was more to this story, though.  “What happened?”

Spock stood, “With your permission, I would like to change before we debrief.”

Kirk nodded, and Spock gracefully exited the room.  Kirk wasn’t sure what to make of the new situation.  Usually, when someone went missing for a while, they either turned up dead or gravely injured, and while he was indisputably grateful that that had not happened, he mind was full of questions.  Unwilling to wait for Spock to change although he’d certainly be quick about it, Kirk headed to the only other place where he might get some answers. Sickbay.

“M’Benga.”  He greeted smoothly as he entered.  “How is he?”

M’Benga turned from his writing on his PADD.  Bones was lying on the bed in front of him.  “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with him.”

“Then why is he unconscious?” Kirk passed the doctor and stood beside Bones, placing a hand on his arm and taking some solace in the warmth he found there.

“Not sure.” M’Benga replied slowly.  “When he wakes up, you can ask him.”  The doctor made a quick escape.  Once he was away, Kirk took Bones’ hand in his own and squeezed it gently.

Suddenly, Spock was beside him, “Captain.”

“Spock!” He greeted eagerly, giving Spock another once-over to ensure that he was not injured and resisting the urge to pull him into a hug. “What the hell happened down there?”

Spock’s face was unreadable as he reported back the facts clinically.  “Doctor McCoy and I persuaded Emperor Ninyal to allow us to see his daughter, whereupon the doctor learned that she was half-human.  Our suspicions arose, and were later confirmed, that Sarah Nicholson from the first contact mission had been captured and not killed as the report claimed.”

“So Ninyal was trying to keep you from reporting this back to me and bringing Starfleet’s fury down on him.”

“That is correct.”

“I knew he was a rotten liar.  Where were you?  I had security teams searching the whole place.”

“I could not say.  I spent the duration of my stay in the dungeons.  However, Doctor McCoy will likely be able to tell you more as he was able to move around the palace more freely while he was developing a cure for Ninyal’s daughter.”

Kirk nodded.   It did make some sense.  Perhaps they were kept somewhere outside the palace… but no, they had to have been under the shield, not to mention how they appeared outside of Ninyal’s palace.  But there was one question that was bothering him most of all.  “Why is he unconscious?”

Spock hesitated a moment before responding, which had Kirk analyzing before the Vulcan even spoke.  Spock hesitating generally meant that he was coming up with the best way to phrase what he had to say (always bad news) or that he was attempting to decide which facts were the most pertinent (which was as close to Spock lying as he could get).  “In order to persuade the doctor to work for him in the given circumstances, Emperor Ninyal attempted to erase the doctor’s memories. Fortunately, I was able to intervene so the process would not be permanent; however, the resulting reemergence of the memories has occasionally been… forceful.” Spock seemed to grow colder and more distant as he spoke, and Kirk was left to wonder what had happened down on that planet that could have affected him so strongly.

Kirk turned to Bones and looked down at the man who appeared to be sleeping so peacefully while he attempted to decode what Spock had said.  Erasing memories would have terrified his friend.  Did Bones know what was going to happen?  Spock must have used some sort of mind meld to protect Bones but at what cost?  If the memories were ‘reemerging’, that meant that Bones hadn’t had them for a while, right? What had happened over that time? How dangerous was all this that it caused him to lose consciousness?  Sure, Bones looked fine, but if he understood Spock correctly, his mind was in turmoil.  Kirk couldn’t help but ask the question that burned at him more than the technicalities of the blown mission, “Is he going to be okay?”

“I do not have sufficient information at this time.”  Spock wasn’t giving him numbers, which was also a bad sign.  “I do believe that given a few days, he should recover all of his memories, but during this period, he will likely not be himself.”  Kirk nodded, looking down at Bones, who was starting to stir.  “You should also be aware that this process has had other effects on his mind.”

“Like what?”  Kirk turned back to Spock, only to see him staring down at Bones, who was staring back intently.  Neither one answered him or looked in his direction, and Kirk had the oddest sensation that he was being left out of some important conversation.  But that didn’t make sense.  Still, the tension rose as the seconds dragged on in the staring contest between his two friends. 

Suddenly, Bones turned to Kirk and gave him a dirty look.  “You look like shit.”  He announced.

“Thanks.” Kirk knew that if he looked anything like he’d felt over the past few days, he’d have already be admitted to Sickbay.  “You’re looking good yourself.”

Bones sat up smoothly and twisted so his feet hung off the side of the bed.  “At least I’ve been sleeping.  I’m gone for a couple days, and this is what I come back to?  I’m going to have a chat with my nurses about sedation protocols.”

Kirk glanced at Spock with a look that clearly read, ‘Seems fine to me.’  Spock raised an eyebrow, which could mean a thousand different things in different situations.  Here, Kirk was pretty sure it meant, ‘You bought that?’ (Or maybe that was his subconscious talking?) Kirk shrugged.

When he turned back to Bones, the doctor was looking around his own sickbay like he’d never seen the place before.  Which, if Spock was right about his memories, was kind of true.  Not exactly the best position for a Chief Medical Officer to be in, though.  Kirk made a mental note to keep Bones off rotation for a good, long while…. and leave this tidbit out of his report to Starfleet, lest they feel some strange obligation to butt their heads in.

“Bones. You think you could give us a layout of the palace?”

McCoy snapped his head back, looking like an outlandish cross between a kid caught with their hand in a cookie jar and a grouchy old Luddite. He recovered quickly and leaned forward.  “Sure. What’s the game plan?”

“Well, I suppose I’d better report in before I roast Ninyal and eat him for dinner.” Bones looked strangely uncomfortable at his joke, staring over Spock’s shoulder like a zombie.  Kirk furrowed a brow, but decided there were more pressing issues.  Like rescuing Sarah Nicholson and her daughter.  He went to the comm panel and called Scotty and Sulu to Sickbay.

Spock cut in before Kirk could call Bones out on his weird behavior, “I find the practice of cannibalism to be distasteful.”

Kirk took the bait and slapped Spock on the shoulder.  “It’s not technically cannibalism because the Bloringdians aren’t technically human.  There’s nothing to worry about.”

“I believe the consumption of flesh of a being so similar in genetic make-up to yourself fits the definition of cannibalism as provided by the universalist dictionary.”

“I’m with Spock on this one,” Bones contributed, snapping out of his daze. 

“That’s a first.”  Kirk teased, “Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

“Better than you,” Bones retorted, sliding off the bed.  “Why don’t you lie down?” 

“Oh, no.” Kirk protested immediately, waving his hands and taking a step backwards.  If Bones got him up on that thing, he and Spock would gang up on their captain and force him to take a break, and that was just not going to happen.  Worse, if Bones got him up on that thing and didn’t recognize his ill health and borderline overdose of adrenaline, he’d have an even bigger problem. 

Fortunately, Kirk was saved by the appearance of Scotty and Sulu.  Sulu looked entirely too chipper for someone who Kirk knew had been asleep not even ten minutes prior.   He paused briefly at the door; this was apparently the first he’d heard of Spock and McCoy’s return.  Then he broke into a grin.

“It’s good to see you’re both up and about.  I had some worries when they beamed you aboard.”  Scotty greeted amiably, joining their circle by the bio beds. 

Kirk noticed that while Spock acknowledged them with a nod, Bones had zoned out again.  He wished he could get inside his friend’s head to see what was going on.  “Scotty, you studied the shield generator.  Do you think you could turn it off?”

“Aye.  Would be no trouble at all.”

“Good.”  Kirk nodded.  Things finally seemed to be going his way.  “In twenty minutes, you and Sulu are going to replace the security personnel searching Ninyal’s palace.  You’re going to locate Sarah Nicholson and her daughter, disable the shield and then we’ll be able to beam the four of you back up.  Sulu, I want you to bring one of your swords for protection since you won’t be able to use your phasers.”

“Uh… Captain?” Sulu ventured.  “We still haven’t found the shield generator in Ninyal’s palace.”

“Right.” Kirk turned to Bones who was standing silently and perfectly still.  “Bones?”  Bones did not respond, so he tried a little louder.  It wasn’t until he rested a hand on the other man’s shoulder that Bones seemed to register him.

“Yeah?”

“You suppose you could explain where they can find the generator?” Kirk prompted, unnerved by Bones’ behavior.

Suddenly, the doctor was himself again.  “I can do you one better.” He rummaged around on a shelf and returned with a pair of wet pants that resembled what the slaves were wearing in Ninyal’s palace. He reached into a pocket and retrieved a piece of paper before tossing the pants casually on the bed.  “I drew a map.”  He unfolded the piece of paper and spread that out on the bed as well. 

“What are we looking at?”

“The lower levels, the levels under the water.  I think the reason you couldn’t find us was because we were on different floors than the ones that Ninyal allowed you to search, which you can only get to through secret passageways by pressing these.”  He pointed out his side drawing illustrating the appropriate bricks to press.  “They look just like dead-ends.  I didn’t know they existed until the Bloringdian I was working with pointed them out.”

“Aye.”  Scotty said enthusiastically.  “I think I know where those passages might be.  We compiled all of the data Thistle was able to collect in her surveys and there were a couple of places just like that.”

Bones nodded and continued to explain his drawing.  “This is the stairway to the dungeons and over here is the generator.  Right here is an entrance to the water.  That’s how Spock and I were able to get out.  You might want to keep that as a Plan B, though.”

Kirk glanced back at Spock who’d been very silent and noticed that he was watching Bones like a cop might watch a box of donuts. He followed his gaze to Bones, who seemed to have things under control, despite the disturbing bouts of staring into space.  What was he seeing that Kirk wasn’t?  “Where’s Nicholson?”  He finally asked.

Bones looked down.  “I think she’s dead, Jim.  The bug that got her daughter is quite lethal to humans when combined with some of the local foods.  Plus, she just wouldn’t be the same-” Bones cut himself off.  “Her daughter’s room is located over here.  Her room is supposed to be adjacent, so you could see if she’s there.”

“Well, gentlemen.” Kirk put his hands together.  “You have your orders.”

“Jim, wait.” Bones butted in, “Are you sure we should be doing this?”

“Doing what?”  Kirk returned.

“In all likelihood, that little girl has just lost her mother and now we’re taking her away from her father, the only other family she knows. Is that really in her best interests?”

“I can’t believe you’re asking that.” So, maybe Spock was right about Bones not being himself. “You want to leave a little girl with a man who kidnapped and raped a Starfleet officer instead of sending her home to Nicholson’s family?  I admit that the transition will undoubtedly be difficult for her, but it’s definitely better than allowing her to be raised by that monster, father or not.”

Spock was suddenly beside Bones, looking almost nervous, for a Vulcan.  “Perhaps it would be best if you retire to your quarters, Doctor.”

“Like hell.”  Bones snapped, and Kirk saw anxiety and desperation claim the doctor’s features.  His voice steadily grew louder.  “Look, I wouldn’t be the first one to sign up for the Ninyal fanclub and he’s done things that would give him a one-way ticket to hell, but you can’t just take a daughter away from her father like that!  It’s just not right!” 

And suddenly Kirk realized what he’d been missing and felt his stomach twist; this wasn’t about Ninyal at all.  Moreover, he realized what the reemergence of a person’s memories really meant.  He shouldn’t have involved Bones in any of this.  He should have insisted that Bones stay in bed and relax for a few days.   Now he had Sulu and Scotty gaping at Bones, who looked like he was two seconds away from a complete melt-down.  A voice in the back of his head reminded him that it was very bad for morale for them to see their CMO like this.

Kirk turned away from Spock and Bones, addressing the others in a harsh, captainly voice.  “You have your orders. Dismissed.” There was a slight pause before they both turned sharply and left.  “Bones…” He tried.

“Go to hell!” Bones’ voice and face were a cross between panic and outrage.  “How could you do that?”

Kirk was torn.  He wanted to see this through and take care of Bones, but he knew Bones needed some time to cool off and collect himself.  Forcing him to face it now would just cause the other man humiliation. He also knew that if he didn’t address it at all, Bones would be in Sickbay in a few hours attempting to work.  Kirk pulled in a breath.   “Doctor McCoy, you are on medical leave for the next week.  You are not to treat anyone for any reason during that period.  Is that understood?”

Kirk was slightly relieved to see the fire in his eyes when Bones spit out, “Yes, sir.”  The fire meant he was going to make it through this intact.  Whatever ‘this’ was.

“Spock, please escort Dr. McCoy to his quarters and make sure he gets some rest.”

He waited for them to leave before letting his shoulders slump.  He was bone-tired and he had to make a report to Starfleet right away.  Sometimes, it sucked being captain.

.o0o.


	20. Chapter 20

.o0o.

Part 20

.o0o.

Spock walked beside McCoy in silence, allowing the doctor’s emotions to wash over him through the link.  At first, McCoy was furious and desperate, but as he made his way further from the memory of his daughter being taken from him in a grueling custody battle, he began to feel more guilt.  A few of the crewmen welcomed them back as they passed in the hall, but McCoy was too engrossed in his thoughts to comment.  Spock responded for them both. 

About halfway there, McCoy stopped, but Spock was ready for his outburst.  “I am such an asshole.” He stated firmly.  “I need to go apologize to Jim.”

“He understands.” Spock placed a gentle hand on his arm to keep him from moving back to Sickbay.  “And I do not think he will appreciate your presence in Sickbay promptly after he ordered you to leave.”

McCoy searched his face, but for what, Spock couldn’t say.  Then he turned back toward his quarters.  “I suppose you’re right.” They continued the rest of the way in silence because McCoy wanted to say something, but he wasn’t going to do it in public.  And, unlike the plea to not tell the captain about the link McCoy had made when he’d first woken up, the doctor did not feel it was pressing enough to use the link to communicate.

The silence continued even as the doctor let himself into his room and waved Spock in as well.   McCoy adjusted the temperature of the room to be warmer, though Spock wasn’t sure whose benefit that was for, then poured himself a drink from a bottle that was sitting at the edge of his desk. He didn’t offer Spock anything because they both knew the Vulcan wasn’t interested in alcohol. He sat down on at the desk and gestured for Spock to sit in the vacant chair across from him, which he did. 

McCoy scraped his hand across his face.  “Man, I’m tired.”

“I shall depart and allow you to rest.”

McCoy snorted, “You are not getting away that easily. I need to talk to you.”

Spock raised an eyebrow but remained seated.  “I believe there are some important issues that we should discuss as well.”

McCoy took a long sip from his drink and set it down.  “God, I hate being dependent on other people.”

“In general, I believe you are most self-sufficient.”  Spock stated; the doctor’s train of thought was, as usual, most illogical.

“Not down there.  I needed you down there.  There’s no way I would have gotten out of that mess on my own.  It’s always like this.  On the Galileo… we would have died there, too, if you hadn’t been there.”

“Doctor, your recollection of events is lacking.  I, too, would have been unable to escape either situation without your assistance.  You recall that I was trapped under a boulder and you enabled me to return to the Galileo. While in the dungeons, I was unable to escape my cell and needed your assistance.  Furthermore, I would have been unable to utilize our method of retreat had you not provided me with the knowledge of swimming. Therefore, I must conclude that it is not an issue of one of us being dependent upon the other, but rather and issue of co-dependency.”

McCoy seemed to think about this for a few minutes before nodding slowly.  “In any case, I… I wanted to thank you.”

“It is illogical to thank me.” 

“Well, I’m doing it anyway.”

Spock nodded.  “I believe the appropriate response is ‘you’re welcome.’”

“Well, now that that’s out of the way,” McCoy was dissatisfied.  Spock did not know why.

“Why do you not wish to tell the captain of the link?”  Spock questioned.

“Besides how much Jim has on his plate?” McCoy said it as if that was answer enough, but Spock was sure it was the least of McCoy’s concerns. “Much as I appreciate what you did for me, I don’t want to stay linked.  I hate the idea of someone being able to rummage around in my thoughts.” Unbidden, Spock’s thoughts returned to the forced meld.  McCoy’s mind was clearly there as well, but he pushed it back.  “You said we could break the link, so I just want to break the link and forget all of his ever happened.  The more people we tell, the harder it will be to just forget about it. Plus, you know Jim.  He’ll feel… left out if he finds out about the link.”

“I see.” Spock could not concede that forgetting about the events was the best course of action, but he would admit (if only to himself) that the idea held a certain appeal to it. 

“So, can you… you know.”  McCoy waved his hand around his head.  Spock gathered perhaps more from McCoy’s mental patterns than the words that the doctor expected him to break the link immediately.

“I cannot.”

“What?” There was a slight disbelief in McCoy’s tone.  “But I thought… you said...”

Spock felt the warm, powerful link splayed across the recesses of his mind.  “I previously believed that I would be able to break the link between our minds, but I am now quite certain that such a task is beyond my capabilities.  We must go to Vulcan.”

“What changed?”

“At first, I selected the strongest link so that I might have the greatest chance of contacting your mind while we were separated.  As I did not anchor all four ends of the link originally, I felt I would be able to remove the link with little difficulty.”

“But when you anchored the last end, you basically guaranteed that you wouldn’t be able to break it on your own.”  McCoy concluded, though Spock felt no anger over the situation.  “And by strongest link, you mean…”

“The marriage link.” Spock watched as the doctor poured himself a second glass of the liquid and emptied it in two large gulps.  Emotions danced over the link and Spock gave the doctor a few more minutes to process.  “On Vulcan, we are married.”

McCoy choked and snorted.  He was laughing inside and out, though there was an edge of something darker.  “This is ridiculous. Do me a favor, and never tell Jim that. Ever.” He paused a beat.  “Actually, don’t tell anyone that.”

Spock raised an eyebrow.  “I shall attempt to avoid it.”  Spock did not tell McCoy that other Vulcans would know that they were married without having to say anything.

“How’re we going to get to Vulcan?”

Spock had already planned for this possibility.  “In one month, the Intrepid is scheduled to return to Vulcan.  They should pass within a few light years of us.”  Spock thought this a most fortunate occurrence.  McCoy was less thrilled.

“A _month_?!”  Spock thought that perhaps the decibel McCoy had chosen to use was a direct attack on his sensitive Vulcan ears.  “I have to be married to you for a _month_?!”

“It should be adequate time to repair the damage Emperor Ninyal’s machine has done to your mind.”

“Wait… what?”

“The human mind is quite resilient.  When it loses part of its functionality, it attempts to continue the same function while filling in the gaps with its best guesses.  Oftentimes, the person is not even aware that this has occurred.  In your case, the device destroyed a large portion of the reasoning center of your brain as well as the outer barriers that protect from telepathic intrusions.  I believe a month should be adequate for us to repair the damage.”

Spock was not surprised by the initial confusion, nor the vehemence that was rolling off of McCoy.  The repressed memory went a long way to explain McCoy’s extreme aversion to telepathic contact and perhaps some of his reticence in becoming friends with Spock.  “Absolutely not.  Haven’t we mucked around in my brain enough already?  You said it will relearn the functions that are missing.  There’s really no need to do this.”

“Doctor, you do not understand the severity of the injury and the consequences of not repairing it.  Your brain will attempt to relearn, and perhaps be successful with smaller impairments.  However, the more that is missing, the less information the brain will have to base its decisions off of and the less accurate these results will be.  There is too much damage in your mind.  You will not be able to continue your current profession in your present state.” Spock clarified, attempting to ignore the horror that McCoy was sending over the link.

“So you mean I have no choice.”  The unspoken weight of the forced meld held them both down. Spock knew he would have to address that issue as well, but now was not the time.  It would be best if the walls and logic were repaired and the memories returned first.  Then, McCoy would feel more in control and they would have better luck.  For the time being, Spock would watch over him.

 First, he must ensure that McCoy felt safe with him.  “You may choose not to work with me.  I will be forced to inform the captain of the situation and that you are not capable of continuing as a doctor, but I will not force you to accept my help.”

McCoy was drinking again, but Spock could tell that it wasn’t enough to impair his judgment.  His choice would be his own.   “This sucks.”

“Indeed.”  Spock intoned and McCoy clung to the slight glow of humor.  Spock thought back to their discussion on dependency.  McCoy undoubtedly felt like he was being stripped of his independence.  “Besides restoring your walls, I could also show you how to better protect yourself from telepaths.”

McCoy snorted into his cup, slouching further into his chair.  “Thought you said my abilities were too minimal to really do anything.”

“I may have underestimated your mental capabilities.  The prolonged contact between our minds has given me a better understanding of your aptitude.  You were quite successful in removing me from your mind while we were in the water.” Although Spock had meant it in a positive way, McCoy ducked his head.

“Sorry about that.”

“It was understandable given the circumstances.”

“You could’ve drowned.”

“I did not.”

“Okay, here’s the deal.” McCoy began, sounding for all the world as if it were him doing the favor.  “We keep this a secret.  You fix my head, you teach me how to defend myself, we go back to Vulcan and get this damn marriage annulled and then we never speak of any of this again.”

“Agreed.”

“I’m not finished! There’s one other thing.  That memory, the one in the box?  I know you saw it, part of it, at least.  You have to promise not to ask me anything about it.”

Spock had to think this over.   He could tell that McCoy was not going to back down on this point.  Still, questions were already festering all over Spock’s mind about the incident.  “Agreed.”

.o0o.


	21. Chapter 21

.o0o.

For once, a mission had gone smoothly. Scotty and Sulu infiltrated Ninyal’s palace, only to find Ninyal dead and the palace full of chaos.  It was unfortunate for the Bloringdians, but it make their job of finding Ninyal’s daughter, turning off the generator and beaming back about much easier.

“Two hours, Bones.  Two hours.  I told you were not to treat anyone for a week.”  There was no harshness in Kirk’s voice this time but Bones still jumped. He turned to scowl at Kirk, who took that as a good sign.

“I’m not treating her.” Bones explained, “I’m just observing.  Besides, I’m the only one she even recognizes.” Bones looked back at Kirk.  “And you really need to get some sleep.”

Kirk gave him a lopsided grin.  “She’s sleeping, come on.  I want to show you something.”

Bones stood, but he didn’t follow.  He folded his arms over his chest.

“I promise I will be asleep in bed in a half an hour.  Okay?”

Bones nodded and followed Kirk out the door.  “Sorry I blew a fuse earlier.  I just feel like somebody opened my head with a rusty can-opener and decided to make scrambled eggs out of my brain.”

“Sounds like you should be sleeping, too.”

“I will.” Bones promised.  “I just wanted to check in on the girl.  What’s going to happen to her?”

“The Constellation is due for some repairs back on Earth.  They’re going take her there where her grandparents are eagerly awaiting their grandchild.  She’ll be in good hands.”

Bones nodded slowly.  “I don’t suppose we could take her.”

Kirk shook his head.  “Sorry.  A bunch of miners have died on Janus VI.  They want us to investigate.”

“And what about Bloringdia?”  Bones asked as they entered the turbolift. 

“I’ve recommended Yoramyn as a contact, but the brass want to wait until this uprising has cooled down so the treaty will stick. Whoever takes over Ninyal’s territory might throw it out the window.  In any case, we probably won’t be the ones to sign the final deal.” The doors peeled open and the duo walk onto the bridge.  “On screen.” Kirk demands.

He watched as Bones’ face split into a smile.  “Gesull! You’re alive!”  He greeted enthusiastically.

“I am glad to see that you have made it safely back to your ship.” The Bloringdian on the viewscreen returned. 

“We couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Your captain informs me that you must leave Bloringdia very shortly, but I believe you would like to know that the prophecy is coming true.  Once our shields were lowered, all the other cities lowered their shields as well.  It seems that just one voice can make a bigger difference than any of us had imagined.  Already Unferun are walking freely as they please and when their masters demand something of them, they demand something else in return.” Gesull turned to look off the screen for a second before rising to his feet.  “I must go.  There is much work to be done.  I do hope you will come back to see how much we have learned.”

“I will certainly try.”  Bones responded, “Best of luck to you, my friend.”

“May peace surround you, Bones.”  The viewscreen went blank.

Kirk clapped a hand on Bones’ shoulder.  “You seem to have made quite the impression with that one.”

Bones chuckled.  “I think he left a bigger impression on me.”

“Chekov, plot a course for Janus VI.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Tis a shame we couldn’t get that mining treaty.” Scotty said wistfully.  “All those dilithium crystals just sitting there unused.”

“Slavery, kidnapping, and memory erasing?  I’m rather glad we’re leaving.”  Kirk chuckled, then yawned.

“Aye, but it’s such a shame to go away empty handed, is all.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say empty handed.”  Bones jumped in, bouncing on the balls of his feet.  “They were handing those things out like they were going out of style.  Ninyal kept giving me them whenever I’d visit.  I swear I have a whole crate in my quarters on top of the boxes he sent up as payment.  Not sure what he thought a Healer could do with those.”

Scotty wrapped an arm over the doctor’s shoulders and steered him into the turbolift.  “You know, I might be able to help you out with them.” 

Kirk just shook his head.  His family was home and safe; it was time for him to sleep.  “Sulu, you have the conn. I’m going to spend the next four days in bed.”

“Aye, sir.”

Kirk had almost made it to the refuge of the turbolift when Spock of all people interrupted him, “Captain, may I have a word with you in private?”

_TBC in Dependency: Secrets_

.o0o.

 

Here’s a little tidbit from the sequel:

 

_“Captain.” Spock continued, folding his hands behind his back, “I request that Dr. McCoy accompany me to Vulcan.”_

_Kirk turned sharply.  His mental strange meter was soaring into the WTF section. “Why?”_

_“It’s personal.”_

_“You’ve already asked him?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“And he_ agreed _?”  Kirk was baffled._


End file.
